"Why do you think that?" Dr. Stiles asked her.
"I see things, but I'm not sure if they're real or not."
"What have you seen?"
Jordan told them about snowstorm, dancing with Woody, being back at the Pogue with Lily, and Nigel's motorcycle. Everyone confirmed that those weren't figments of her imagination, but were very real memories.
Encouraged, she sat up. "But right before I fainted, I had another one."
"What was in this one?" asked Woody, gently urging her on.
"I can't really explain. There was a figure on the floor, and there was a lot of red in the room. It looked like blood – blood everywhere."
The men looked at each other uneasily. Jordan caught the vibe.
"It's a real memory, isn't it?" she asked.
Dr. Stiles nodded. "Do you remember anything else?"
"No….what was it? An old case?"
Clearing his throat, Garrett replied, "Yes. It's an old case. A case you've been working on for a long time…it's never been solved. It stays on your mind a lot."
Jordan wrinkled her brow. "That's funny. I remember all my other old cases, even the cold ones. Why can't I remember this one?"
"Probably because you've been close to solving it quite a few times, love, but every time you're about to close it, it takes another turn. You've worked on this one for years," Nigel said.
Jordan thought about this for a minute. Looking at the foursome, she said, "I don't believe it. It has something to do with my past. I'm on the verge of remembering everything, aren't I?"
Dr. Stiles nodded. "Remember Jo, you can just walk away…"
"Hell, no. I haven't come this far for nothing."
"Go home, Jo. Eat some dinner, relax, go to bed. We'll take this up in the morning," Dr. Stiles said.
Jordan got up and went to get her things from the locker room. The men didn't follow her out. She knew she was their topic of conversation.
"You're sure he's coming?" Garrett asked Nigel.
"Yes. I talked with Max myself. He's going to be in tomorrow evening our time."
"Did you tell him everything?"
"Yeah."
"What was his reaction?" asked Woody.
"He's worried about her. But he can't help but feel that it may be better for her if she doesn't remember."
"Is her memory really coming back, Stiles?" asked Garrett.
"Seems to be. What she's seeing is real. It happened. And her headaches are proof. The worse they get, the harder the part of the brain that is protecting her is working to keep her from remembering. But it's failing. I have a feeling that she's going to have one huge, awful headache, and then her memory is going to come flooding back. The gate will be down and nothing will hold it back. And it's important she not be alone when that happens.
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The next day Jordan got up and dressed, ready to return to work. Woody stopped her. "I've called Dr. Stiles. I want to do this here…not at my office or yours. I think we both would be more comfortable."
"Okay, Woody, whatever you say…" Jordan began to get anxious. Nervously, she paced the living room while Woody showered and got ready. Since that night she had turned to him in her bed, they had avoided physical contact. Woody had been there for her, at each intervention, but at night, he was careful to make sure she was in her bed and he was on the couch. It was if they both knew that even the slightest touch may start a series of sexual fireworks that neither could put the brakes on this time.
Dr. Stiles arrived as Woody was coming back into the living room. "Good morning," he said, greeting Woody and Jordan. Turning to Jordan, he asked the same question he had everyday that week. "Are you ready?"
Jordan swallowed hard. A part of her was eager to continue…needing to finish this thing so she could remember her past and get on with her future. And another part of her was scared that once Woody confronted her, she wouldn't like herself enough to even try to continue their relationship. He had been nothing but good to her since her accident. Patient. Caring. Concerned. Loving. What had she been to him in the past? How had she treated him?
"What's the matter, Jordan? You look scared to death," said Dr. Stiles.
Woody glanced at her face. She was scared. She looked more frightened than when she talked to Garrett or Nigel. She was afraid and Woody's heart broke for her, but he knew they had to get through this. He had to get his old Jordan back. His answerless riddle – his never ending puzzle. He went over to her and took her by the hand, gently pulling her to the couch beside him. Dr. Stiles settled himself in the chair across from them. Holding both her hands in his, he began.
"Jordan, we've known each other for a few years. When I first came to the Boston PD, all the other detectives warned me about you after I began to ask questions about the 'hot ME downtown.' They warned me that you would chew me up and spit me out – that my best bet was to stay away from you.
"But when I met you, I saw something different. I saw a complicated woman, for sure. I saw a woman who would move heaven and earth to find answers about a dead loved one for their families. I saw a woman that would work endless hours pursuing the truth. I saw a woman who cared more for her friends and family than herself.
"And I saw a woman that was driven, too driven sometimes for her own good. A person who would, in the name of truth, jeopardize friendships and sometimes even breaking hearts, in order to find out answers.
"I followed you around, as far away as California once, in your drive for answers. I did it to try to protect you from anyone that would want to hurt you. I've even shot a man for you.
"I know all of that's a lot. You asked me the other night how come our relationship hadn't progressed any further than it did. I told you that you wanted to put up a wall after we kissed that time in the desert. And if you had changed your mind about pushing me away, you hadn't told me yet. And that's true. Part of that is your doing. But part of it is mine, too. For the longest time after we met, I tried to hate you. You made me angry. You wouldn't settle for convenient answers. You wanted the truth. And sometimes the truth didn't come in neat, little packages. It can be complicated, messy, and be hard to find.
"But you know what, Jo? I couldn't hate you if I wanted to. For in all our adventures and cases together, I've gotten to know you pretty well. And if you're driven, relentless even, in finding out the truth, it's because the truth's important to you."
"Why? Why is always knowing the truth so important to me?" Jordan asked.
Woody paused. This next part was going to be the hardest. He glanced over at Dr. Stiles. The doctor nodded to Woody, encouraging him to continue.
"It's because you have to have answers. The right answers. Not just convenient, neat, answers. And the reason you need answers so badly is that a big part of your life has been nothing but a puzzle since you were ten years old."
Jordan looked at him – the question was in her eyes, but she couldn't voice it and Woody wasn't sure he wanted to tell her.
"Go on, Woody," Dr. Stiles said softly.
Suddenly, Jordan's head began to pound. "No," she said. She could feel the tears, the nausea, and the headache coming. "No – this is too hard…please, stop."
"No, Jordan," Woody said. "We have to get through this."
"No…, I'm going to be sick." And with that Jordan fled to the bathroom, slammed and locked the door, and retched for what seemed like hours. Finally, when there was nothing left, she stood and washed her face in cold water. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Who was she? Who the hell was she? This person that stepped all over people in order to get answers. Answers to what? What was so important that she had to hurt her friends in order to find out? And family. Woody mentioned family. She had family? Where? How come no one had told her before? How come her mother, father, brothers or sisters hadn't come to help her? Had she hurt them so much that she had pushed them out of her life? Dully, she looked at her face. What did she matter? Why did the truth matter? What happened to her when she was ten?
"Jordan, are you okay?" It was Woody. Always concerned. Why did he care for her? He could do better. She had to make him do better. He didn't need her. She had to let him go.
Then, suddenly, it was as if something took over her body. It was like her brain shifted to automatic pilot. The headache was still there, but the pain was muffled by something more powerful in her psyche. She decided to go with the feeling. She opened the door to the bathroom and managed a smile.
"I'm better now, Woody. Really. It just gets a little overwhelming sometimes."
Woody looked at her doubtfully and scratched the back of his head. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'll be better soon. Is Dr. Stiles still in the living room?"
"Yes.."
"I'm sorry Dr. Stiles. My head just started hurting again, and sometimes I get sick to my stomach when that happens."
"Do you feel like you're going to pass out?
"No. I'm fine, but I don't think I want to try to continue today, at least right now. Is that okay?"
"A little overwhelmed?"
"Let's try a lot overwhelmed. Can I sort of think this part over and then you, Woody, and I get together again tomorrow?
Dr. Stiles nodded.
"Sure," Woody said.
"Well, if we're going to finish this tomorrow, I'm going to my office," said Dr. Stiles. "Jordan, you call me if you need me and I'll be right over."
"Okay. But right now, I think I need to get to work."
"Are you sure you feel like working right now?" asked Woody. She looked pale and drawn.
Jordan managed to give him another smile. "You know me. I am happiest when I'm busy and I think better when I'm busy, too."
Woody nodded. At least she was beginning to sound more like the old Jordan.
===================================================
Jordan swung her SUV into the morgue parking lot. She knew Woody was close behind her, making sure she was going to work. So she was going through the motions. Her body, her brain, was still on automatic pilot. She made her way upstairs, purposely greeting everyone.
"Good morning, to you, too," said Nigel. "Did you have your little talk with Woody this morning?"
"Yeah."
"How'd it go, love?" Nigel was a bit concerned.
"It went okay. But we're going to have to finish it later. I got a little overwhelmed."
Nigel nodded sympathetically. Woody and Jordan had a lot of ground to cover and Woody had the most to lose if Jordan didn't get her memory back. It was good that this intervention was going slower than the others.
"Good. I mean good that you've decided to take it slowly. Not good that you got overwhelmed."
"It'll be okay. I'll be okay. I'm going to go through the reports on that guy we autopsied yesterday. I'd like to give them one more look before we turn his body over to the funeral home. I'll be in my office if you need me." Jordan turned and walked into her office, closing the door. But she didn't look at her reports. She knew they were fine. She simply needed time and quiet to think. Alone.
Nothing made sense. At least not sense in the collective word. All she had was a bunch of small pieces of the puzzle of her life. Little pictures. Nothing had connected them. Not yet. But she had a plan. She was still on that automatic pilot. Something was driving her, controlling her, but she couldn't put a name on it. Slowly, she opened the door to her office and looked out. Everyone was busy. Taking this as her chance, she quietly walked down the hall to the cargo elevator. Getting in it, she pushed the button to the basement. When the doors opened again, she looked around. No one. Not a soul. She quietly let herself out the back door and climbed in her car.