Jordan stood out front of the brick house, worn cement steps that led to Doctor Stile's house, while she wasn't fond of the man; she had to feel some sort of admiration. He had pulled her off many a ledge. Her breathing was shallow; she could feel her lip trembling. Snow fell in sheets, swirling in the wind. For hours she sat in her car, watching the trees in the park dip low from the force of the wind, Christmas was over, but the decorations were still hung, a haunting reminder of the fateful day. When she had gone home that night, she felt something different, for the first time in her life she was in love, with a seemingly non-sub-defective, only to find he was as screwed up as her.
A hot shower and a clean change of clothes did nothing to enliven her spirits, she felt as lonely and as lost as she had at the hospital.
She thought about what he told her, about not being able to reach her. Time passed so quickly, like sand threw an open hand, hours went by like minutes as she stood out front of that brick house, her feet glued to that spot on the cold cement. Snow was gathered in thick clumps on her straight, dark hair and on the black wool jacket that fell to her feet, she was warm in that jacket, she was safe from the frost and bitter cold that the wind carried on its callous wings, she could almost hear his name being whispered threw the trees.
"Jordan?" Doctor Stiles puzzled voice rang out from the warmth of his doorway, soft glow of faint light washing over her like warm sea water.
"Doctor Stiles you have to come quick... Please!" she begged, her legs refused to move from that spot on the snow covered sidewalk.
He came to her, looking her over, she looked safe enough... she was wrapped up in a black coat, a pink scarf tucked in for additional warmth, her slender hands bundled in simple black mittens. Something in her eyes told a different story, she was like a deer caught in the head lights of a diesel truck... they were wide and panicky, like even the muted sounds of the snow falling on the lit up skyscrapers scared her down to her core.
"What is it Jordan?" he asked trying to help her inside; she pulled away from him with an indelicate jerk. The force bowled her over in the snow, she sat where she fell, covered in powder, and she was too tired to move any farther.
"Its not me this time Doctor Stiles, Its Woody." Howard was aware of what had happened to the happy-go-lucky detective, he enjoyed the boy's fearless 'I can tackle anything I want to' attitude, he was deeply saddened by the news that Garret filled him in on. Woody seemed the only one around the morgue that greeted him happily, part of the reason being he never was actually required to see Doctor Stiles professionally.
"What is it?" he asked helping her up and brushing her off gently.
"He's like a little boy, so scared... he told me he can't make the dreams go away." She seemed so anxious for her love, almost hyperventilating.
"What dreams Jordan?" he asked, already assessing what she was telling him.
"I'm not sure, he was so hard to understand." She stared at him pleading, the street was dark, and the open door created a shaft of tired light that flickered on and off.
"Alright let me get my coat... wait here."
"I will." She promised fervently.
"Jordan..." he warned "I mean it... don't move." He gave her a wary look as she nodded her head.
"What would make you think I'd move?" she asked, sarcastically, trying to hide the tremble in her sad voice.
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Woody felt the effects of the demurral, he was starting to nod off, but as soon as his eyes closed they'd pop open... Jordan would be here soon, he had to stay awake to see her.
But his eyelids became heavier as he watched the snow swirl and vanish into vast, stark, white blanket that was adorned over the hospital parking lot, he felt so close to her, he could smell the scent of vanilla, her arms warm against the back of his neck as they danced in her living room to soft music, he could feel her, but he knew he was alone.
He felt sleep take over, its darkness settling cold and unsteady over his weak body. Then he was there...
Running up those familiar steps, his footsteps echoing in his brain... he had to find her. That red door, sat like the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, he knew what was coming... yet he couldn't stop himself. There she was, an angel with a halo of blood, her dark eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. When he ducked to touch his fingertip to her nose so cold, he felt something heavy and metal in his hand... when he glanced down he realized what it was... the gun, his trigger finger twitching lightly...
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"Wake up Wood!" she screamed at the restless figure lying in a mass of tangled blankets and IV tubes. His forehead caked in salty sweat and his hair mussed from the struggle he was fighting with his own mind.
Woody's eyes shot open as he looked around frantically, when his cerulean eyes came to rest on her he calmed, relaxing his muscles and lifting a weak arm to caress her silky cheek with his rough and callous hand.
"J-Jordan." He whispered, looking at her with the tender eyes she knew so well. She pressed a kiss into his palm.
"I come baring good news..." she said, careful of how she spoke, she wanted to tell him something good, something he desperately needed.
"Eddie Winslow went by Jennifer O'Brian's apartment; they found the files exposing the entire Boston Ring... Its over." She wiped down his face with her sleeve. "Chief Haralson will be forced into resignation... you did it, you won... its over." She repeated the last words 'its over.' Hoping it would catch in his mind.
"N-No, this will never be over..." he whispered, "I-I will A-Always b-be known as the W-whistleblower." He said as if trying to convince himself that he had done the wrong thing.
"You know Woody, at the end of the day no one really cares." Jordan whispered in his ear, stroking his forehead. "I brought Doctor Stiles with me... he wants to have a chat."
Woody smiled threw chapped lips. "Great... I'm going to get a forty minute lecture from Princess Sensitivity." He joked, she chuckled and stood. "Wait! Where are you going?" he asked, sitting up, anxious.
"Don't worry." She said a pathetic attempt to be brave. "I'm right outside, and you just holler if you need me okay, I'm reachable." Jordan kissed the top of his head before handing him off to Howard.
As she brushed by the stocky doctor, he clutched her arm.
"Don't worry Jordan." He whispered in her ear, leaving her somewhat stunned, she stumbled out to the doorway, and just as the heavy door slammed shut behind her, she heard Howard's voice as he tried to lighten the mood.
"Hey I resent that Princess Sensitivity comment!" As she looked around the desolate hallway, she felt the bitter bite of loneliness, she slumped into a chair, the chair she had recently occupied that morning, and brought her knees to her chest. She felt so alone.