He left Jordan in her apartment after her begging him to go home and
get some sleep; he made her promise to lock her doors. Jordan was curled up
on her futon/couch, with a box of Hagan Daaz, watching the discovery
channel in her sweats, it was a new low.
She was worried, a sick worry that left a raw feeling in her stomach. He sat on her couch for three hours, not speaking, not moving, and just staring sightlessly at the wall, his blue eyes glazed over with anxiety. He ate a little, that was reassuring, sort of, and she wasn't sure what happened with Allen Rodriguez, all she knew is that it stirred some kind of fear up with Woody. Before, it was different; he was happy, bouncy, willing to fall at her feet for anything, she wished to have those days back. When she was kidnapped, she had never felt fear like that, well, except for the digger thing, but that had been so long ago, this was a new fear, it left her paralyzed, hypnotized. But she was also confident that Woody would find her, and she would come home with him and the end, she'd have a happy ending.
For the most part they did, spending nights at each others houses, having dinner, going to red sox games. They had to be the happiest couple in Boston, they never fought or bickered, and he never pushed. Then this case came up, damned this case, like so many before that consumed her thoughts this one did as well, only, it consumed his thoughts more.
He wasn't sleeping or eating, he would often just stop everything and lay his head down on the desk in front of him, close his eyes and float away, where he went she had yet to find out.
Now she knew what it was like to be him, worrying about her, constant nagging, a need just to follow a safe distance behind and watch as he self destructed, doing what he could from the distance that he was forced to dwell. She felt tears well up behind her eyes, she tried to tell herself it would be okay, in her heart she knew it wasn't okay; he was walking a familiar line, a line that led nowhere.
Woody wandered down the street towards his house, he hadn't told Jordan they had threatened her, or him for that matter. He pushed his way through the throng of people, on their way somewhere; he stumbled, but caught himself quickly. Maybe he should give up on the case, was it worth the pain or ultimately his life? But if he gave up, they would have won, and they were not going to win.
As he was unlocking the door to his building, anxious to leave the bitter wind and snow outside, he noticed a box, 'Free' was all it said, it was shut, but moist from the snow. He opened it, what he saw almost brought him to tears. Someone left a puppy outside, alone, in the cold, it was ball of fluff yet it shivered. He let his hand down next to the puppy's nose; he recognized the familiar black and white pattern.
"Hey Bud, you're a border collie, they have tons of you in Wisconsin..." he picked him up gingerly, wrapping the pup inside of his jacket. "Wanna get something to eat?" the dog wagged his tail and licked Woody's face with his warm tongue.
He liked the innocence of the puppy, he didn't kill or lie, he didn't try to be something he wasn't yet, someone didn't want him, they could have put a add in the paper or took him to the pound, no, they left him alone, to freeze.
"I bet Joe, would like you." He murmured under his breath, patting the pup as it gobbled the food he put down hungrily. "Yeah, you'd like her too..." he went threw his mail, ad, bill, ad, bill, and wedding invite... nothing important. Outside the cold seeped through the walls, chilled his flesh and licked his bones. He felt no peace, no security... he couldn't feel anymore, the definition of feel is to respond to, seem, to assume, think or touch. He couldn't do any of those anymore; he had for so long held this image as a happy-go-lucky detective that would follow a lead anywhere, now he was cold, distant, and utterly alone.
He sat at his computer desk and laid his head down, he was scared to sleep now, knowing that the dream would be back, with that haunting picture of Jordan, that look of fear, that pain... he couldn't stand to see her in pain, it was difficult, he loved her so much he couldn't breathe.
But soon sleep tugged on his eyelids and claimed him. As soon as it did, the dream returned, and he was running up that staircase, the only thing he could think was god ... don't hurt her, please, I'll do anything, take me, just spare her.
"Jordan... Jordan!" he screamed, panic rising in his throat, he choked on it, kicking down the door, he found fear gave him a superhuman strength, he wasn't sure how, then again he was never sure of anything anymore, he didn't know what was reality and what was all in his head....
Oh god, her face, like porcelain, ashen, yet like silk a face of pure sorrow, yet she was calm, he knelt next to her, touching a light fingertip to the very tip of her nose... he saw Max, standing over her body, a look of pure despondency and misery as he turned slowly... deliberately pointing the gun towards Woody, his trigger finger twitched slightly....
"Jordan!" he screamed, searching desperately around his barren, cold apartment for some remnants of her, a hair clip maybe, with a single strand of hair. He stumbled in the bathroom and turned the faucet on cold, his mom used to wipe his face when he was sick, and right now he needed something familiar and safe.
He wiped down his face, the cool, clean water felt pleasant on his feverish and sweaty skin. He looked into the mirror, but what he saw wasn't him, it was a monster with hallow eyes that led to a hallow heart; he knew what he had to do.
He picked up the phone, dialing her digits, slowly, making sure the numbers were right, he hung up the first time, he wasn't sure why. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the part right between the eyes before dialing again. When he heard her voice, groggy and saturated with sleep, he felt a wave of relief course threw him, he could always call her... she was his angel, she was always standing by.
"Hello?" she whispered sleepily
"Hi," he muttered, it was muted, almost inaudible
"Hey Babe, it's three O'clock in the morning... anything wrong?"
"No," he said, rubbing his head with his free hand. "No I just had to hear your voice that's all, I just... I just had to hear your voice." He repeated, not sure of himself.
"Oh, are you okay?" she asked concern thick in her voice.
"Yeah, I'm sorry to disturb you sweetheart I just needed to hear you."
"Okay" she mumbled "I'll talk to you tomorrow, its my day off, I'll come by the precinct to see you."
"Alright babe, see you tomorrow, sweet dreams." With that he hung up the phone, he could feel himself breaking down, a piece of himself was being ripped away, it was heartrending, he could feel the tears bite the back of his eyes as he slid to the floor, he let them come, no one was around, he could afford to be unstable for tonight.
She was worried, a sick worry that left a raw feeling in her stomach. He sat on her couch for three hours, not speaking, not moving, and just staring sightlessly at the wall, his blue eyes glazed over with anxiety. He ate a little, that was reassuring, sort of, and she wasn't sure what happened with Allen Rodriguez, all she knew is that it stirred some kind of fear up with Woody. Before, it was different; he was happy, bouncy, willing to fall at her feet for anything, she wished to have those days back. When she was kidnapped, she had never felt fear like that, well, except for the digger thing, but that had been so long ago, this was a new fear, it left her paralyzed, hypnotized. But she was also confident that Woody would find her, and she would come home with him and the end, she'd have a happy ending.
For the most part they did, spending nights at each others houses, having dinner, going to red sox games. They had to be the happiest couple in Boston, they never fought or bickered, and he never pushed. Then this case came up, damned this case, like so many before that consumed her thoughts this one did as well, only, it consumed his thoughts more.
He wasn't sleeping or eating, he would often just stop everything and lay his head down on the desk in front of him, close his eyes and float away, where he went she had yet to find out.
Now she knew what it was like to be him, worrying about her, constant nagging, a need just to follow a safe distance behind and watch as he self destructed, doing what he could from the distance that he was forced to dwell. She felt tears well up behind her eyes, she tried to tell herself it would be okay, in her heart she knew it wasn't okay; he was walking a familiar line, a line that led nowhere.
Woody wandered down the street towards his house, he hadn't told Jordan they had threatened her, or him for that matter. He pushed his way through the throng of people, on their way somewhere; he stumbled, but caught himself quickly. Maybe he should give up on the case, was it worth the pain or ultimately his life? But if he gave up, they would have won, and they were not going to win.
As he was unlocking the door to his building, anxious to leave the bitter wind and snow outside, he noticed a box, 'Free' was all it said, it was shut, but moist from the snow. He opened it, what he saw almost brought him to tears. Someone left a puppy outside, alone, in the cold, it was ball of fluff yet it shivered. He let his hand down next to the puppy's nose; he recognized the familiar black and white pattern.
"Hey Bud, you're a border collie, they have tons of you in Wisconsin..." he picked him up gingerly, wrapping the pup inside of his jacket. "Wanna get something to eat?" the dog wagged his tail and licked Woody's face with his warm tongue.
He liked the innocence of the puppy, he didn't kill or lie, he didn't try to be something he wasn't yet, someone didn't want him, they could have put a add in the paper or took him to the pound, no, they left him alone, to freeze.
"I bet Joe, would like you." He murmured under his breath, patting the pup as it gobbled the food he put down hungrily. "Yeah, you'd like her too..." he went threw his mail, ad, bill, ad, bill, and wedding invite... nothing important. Outside the cold seeped through the walls, chilled his flesh and licked his bones. He felt no peace, no security... he couldn't feel anymore, the definition of feel is to respond to, seem, to assume, think or touch. He couldn't do any of those anymore; he had for so long held this image as a happy-go-lucky detective that would follow a lead anywhere, now he was cold, distant, and utterly alone.
He sat at his computer desk and laid his head down, he was scared to sleep now, knowing that the dream would be back, with that haunting picture of Jordan, that look of fear, that pain... he couldn't stand to see her in pain, it was difficult, he loved her so much he couldn't breathe.
But soon sleep tugged on his eyelids and claimed him. As soon as it did, the dream returned, and he was running up that staircase, the only thing he could think was god ... don't hurt her, please, I'll do anything, take me, just spare her.
"Jordan... Jordan!" he screamed, panic rising in his throat, he choked on it, kicking down the door, he found fear gave him a superhuman strength, he wasn't sure how, then again he was never sure of anything anymore, he didn't know what was reality and what was all in his head....
Oh god, her face, like porcelain, ashen, yet like silk a face of pure sorrow, yet she was calm, he knelt next to her, touching a light fingertip to the very tip of her nose... he saw Max, standing over her body, a look of pure despondency and misery as he turned slowly... deliberately pointing the gun towards Woody, his trigger finger twitched slightly....
"Jordan!" he screamed, searching desperately around his barren, cold apartment for some remnants of her, a hair clip maybe, with a single strand of hair. He stumbled in the bathroom and turned the faucet on cold, his mom used to wipe his face when he was sick, and right now he needed something familiar and safe.
He wiped down his face, the cool, clean water felt pleasant on his feverish and sweaty skin. He looked into the mirror, but what he saw wasn't him, it was a monster with hallow eyes that led to a hallow heart; he knew what he had to do.
He picked up the phone, dialing her digits, slowly, making sure the numbers were right, he hung up the first time, he wasn't sure why. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the part right between the eyes before dialing again. When he heard her voice, groggy and saturated with sleep, he felt a wave of relief course threw him, he could always call her... she was his angel, she was always standing by.
"Hello?" she whispered sleepily
"Hi," he muttered, it was muted, almost inaudible
"Hey Babe, it's three O'clock in the morning... anything wrong?"
"No," he said, rubbing his head with his free hand. "No I just had to hear your voice that's all, I just... I just had to hear your voice." He repeated, not sure of himself.
"Oh, are you okay?" she asked concern thick in her voice.
"Yeah, I'm sorry to disturb you sweetheart I just needed to hear you."
"Okay" she mumbled "I'll talk to you tomorrow, its my day off, I'll come by the precinct to see you."
"Alright babe, see you tomorrow, sweet dreams." With that he hung up the phone, he could feel himself breaking down, a piece of himself was being ripped away, it was heartrending, he could feel the tears bite the back of his eyes as he slid to the floor, he let them come, no one was around, he could afford to be unstable for tonight.