Note: I lied, I may have a few more chapters, I just feel like it. Humor me.
A/N: I know nothing really happened, but I thought I should update... they'll be more going on next chapter
Woody shifted uncomfortably in the leather seats, Jordan tried to keep her eyes on the road, but found herself looking at his side, though it was covered in his green polo shirt.
"You know, it's my experience as a doctor that if you stop moving around, it will hurt less." She muttered, pulling up to her apartment building.
"You don't count, you cut up dead people." He stated, wincing as he twisted in pain.
"I've never heard any complaints." She joked, mussing his hair with a free hand.
He unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his bag, and stood; Jordan gathered her things, car keys and purse. As she climbed out of the SUV, he was almost to the door.
"Woody, let me help you with that." She demanded, running to catch up with him. The cold January morning dawned bright and beautiful, though the air hung thick with the smell of day old snow.
"I have very little dignity left Jo; I'm going to walk in here if it's the last thing I do." He muttered stubbornly.
"Fine have it your way you stubborn ass." She retorted, grabbing his hand to help him into the apartment building.
"Jordan." He whispered softly, he left her side; she could only stare at him as he moved towards the corner of the sidewalk. He knelt down onto the icy slick sidewalk, his fingers moving slowly down a crack in the cement. He remembered little of that night, just small freeze frames, locked away. Jordan hoped to keep it that way, she didn't think he would want to relive it, and she knew she didn't want to.
"What happened?" there was no evidence of anything happening; there was no blood, nothing he was trained to look for... just ice and snow.
Her pause said everything she couldn't, he looked up at her, with those blue eyes, and she melted. "Woody, please don't make me go through it again." She begged her high heel boots clicked on the ice as she walked slowly to him. He smiled, he could see her breath, each silvery puff that escaped her lips; he also saw the way that the cold bit at her nose, leaving it red and raw looking. "Lets just go inside please." She extended a gloved hand. He waited, at first she thought he wasn't going to take it, but after a long, excruciating second, he wrapped his hand around hers and allowed her to help him to the elevator.
Woody collapsed in a heap on her futon, propping his feet on the coffee table. Jordan was in the kitchen, the lights way down low unloading groceries from the night before.
He could only watch the way she stood, the way she put the boxes and cans of food away, propping a foot up because she couldn't quite reach the top shelf.
"Need any help?" he asked, smiling as a stubborn tress of hair fell into her eyes.
"Nah, honey I got it, you just rest."
"O-Kay if you say so." He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV. Nothing special, For love or money, Fear Factor, a rerun of Happy days. "Do you remember when we used to watch anything?" he asked to no one in particular. "We would watch a talking horse, or a flying nun, nope! Now we're watching people eat bugs and marry for money." Jordan laughed, a full throated, child like laugh, something she hadn't done in a long time.
"Stop hogging the remote." She teased, "And get your feet off of the coffee table!" she pushed his feet off playfully as she past by.
"Guess the honeymoons over." He mumbled with a mock hurt look glued to his face, reaching for the bowl of chips in her hand. She smacked it away.
"What are we watching?" she asked, flopping on the couch next to him, snuggling close for warmth and security.
"Well." Woody stated, flipping the channel to TV guide. "We have a fine selection tonight, We have a TV movie sob story... A Sylvester Stallone movie... or Oprah." He announced, shifting uncomfortably. After a moment he added "Please don't pick Oprah."
Four hours later, Jordan was eating chips watching a lifetime moving, as Woody slept peacefully in the corner. Those pain med's do the trick. She thought as she stood, clearing her beer bottles, and lifting a sleeping dog from her lap. She had failed to name the pooch, just settled on calling him Bud, she was glad that Woody got him for her... he was good company on the lonely nights Woody lay in the hospital.
It was almost ten, and night had settled on the city, it almost instantly lit up, and filled with life, as people bustled to there way somewhere, anywhere. Every once in a while Woody would roll or toss, clawing at anything, he would whisper her name over and over. Her hand would gently rub his forehead, pushing his hair away from his face, the second her cool hand would hit his feverish, clammy skin he would instantaneously calm, and return to his peaceful sleep. It was remaindering Jordan that while this whole ordeal had quieted and was dying it wasn't completely over.
Cal was coming to stay with Woody for the next couple of days, to watch him while she was at work. Hopefully they wouldn't wreak havoc on too many, while she had never met him; she had heard horror stories about the two when they got together from Jax. Even after all this time, all the fighting, the fear and the courage that she had seen in those eyes, those baby blue eyes, she still saw him as Woody.... While he had changed, deep down he was the detective she had met, what seemed ages ago.
She watched him sleep the dog tags she had once held in her hand, hung from his neck. All the lights out, the TV on mute, his face looked so calm. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before turning off the TV, draping a blanket across his sleeping frame, and stumbling tiredly to her own bed.