I woke . . . my head pounding . . . I was only vaguely aware of where I was. I stood up stumbling to the bathroom . . . wanted to vomit as I had last night. I splashed cold water against my face . . . retreated back to the bed . . . all I could feel was the vertigo.
"I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up," Woody whispered . . . he pulled my hair off of my face.
"I don't want to wake up," I replied.
"I got you breakfast . . . I thought some toast and orange juice was probably all you would be able to handle this morning," he replied . . . I wasn't sure where he slept last night . . . I had fallen asleep to the sound of myself sobbing . . . I spent the entire night tossing and turning . . . waking from nightmares that never seemed to end . . . stumbling to the bathroom to vomit. All I could picture was my tiny hands . . . blistering . . . reddening . . . glistening with pus . . . my mother yelling at me . . . slapping me across the face . . . my father coming to rescue me . . . taking me to the hospital. I didn't go to school that week . . . my hands were bandaged too tightly . . . Mom went to Grandma's house . . . I stayed with the next door neighbor. The pictures were so vivid . . . it seemed like just yesterday . . . every time I looked at my hands I saw my reminder.
"Thank you," I replied . . . rolling over on to my back . . . the tears threatening to fall down my cheeks.
"You can talk to me, Jordan," Woody replied.
"I don't want to talk about her anymore . . . she's gone," I replied . . . the tears stinging my cheeks, "What time is it?"
"Two in the afternoon," Woody replied.
"Jordan, are you awake," Haley called out as he pounded on the door . . . he needed a damn cell phone . . . the pounding aggravated my headache . . . made my stomach churn. I pulled myself out of bed . . . made my way to the door.
"What happened to you?" Haley asked . . . I tried to keep myself from vomiting all over his feet, "Do you need to go see a doctor?"
"I am a doctor," I replied.
"Well, the kind of doctor that works with the living people. Aren't you going to invite me in?" Haley asked . . . I stepped aside . . . I was sure that he was going to be delighted to see Woody . . . I still had mixed feelings about seeing Woody, "What the hell are you doing here?"
I stood back waiting for the fireworks.
"I had to come see if Jordan was alright," Woody replied calmly . . . he stood up from the bed . . . his clothes wrinkled.
"Well, she's fine. You can leave now," Haley replied . . . looking at me as if I had done something to provoke this.
"I'm not leaving until I'm satisfied that Jordan's okay," Woody challenged him.
"Well, she's fine . . . she has work to do," Haley replied . . . never losing his cool.
"Does she even look like she can work?" Woody yelled at him . . . pointing at me.
"Please stop," I said weakly . . . this was not my finest moment . . . I felt like I could fall to the floor any second . . . I was so tired . . . the memories were back in my head.
"Jordan, let's go . . . I'm taking you home with me," Haley demanded . . . I wasn't sure why he was making such a scene . . . the case didn't seem that sensitive, but with Haley . . . he never told you what he was thinking . . . what he knew.
"No, please . . . please just leave me alone right now," I said brushing Haley off . . . the smell of burnt toast . . .it permeated my mind . . . it smelled a lot like burning paper . . . the blackness . . . the black carbon matter . . . . I stared at my hands . . . the scars were so tiny, but their consequences were so large . . . I wanted my father . . . I wanted him to make this better.
"Jordan, you can talk to me . . . you can still talk to me the way you did years ago. Come with me . . . we can make all of this better," Haley said putting his hands on my shoulders . . . the gesture was odd . . . it was out of place . . . the context of this moment seemed all wrong . . . I wondered what he wanted from me, "Remember, Digger . . . remember how you told me about your mother. Come talk to me, Jordan."
"Haley . . . Drew . . . please give me a day to rest . . . I'll be ready to work tomorrow," I replied weakly . . . his words were so manipulative.
"Jordan, take your day . . . tomorrow, we need to move fast . . . before Firestarter's next deadline," Haley said . . . cupping my right cheek in his hand . . . such a fatherly gesture . . . he turned to leave.
"Don't you dare take her anywhere," Haley warned Woody . . . he slammed the door.
"Is he always that manipulative?" Woody asked.
"No, not normally . . . he can be a pretty good guy. Woody, he's been taking good care of me," I replied making my way back to the bed . . . laying down . . . my head was throbbing.
"He doesn't really show that side of him much, does he?" Woody asked . . . he held a cold washcloth to my head.
Haley's POV
I stormed down the stairs to my car . . . I couldn't believe that he followed her here. It wasn't Detective Hoyt that bothered me . . . Jordan could have invited the entire Red Soxs line up to LA for all I cared. I assume that neither of them knew . . . I hadn't told Jordan much about the case . . . I wanted to take her to the next crime scene . . . have her process it . . . she had a good eye. I kept Jordan busy with work I knew wasn't important . . . I was saving her for the grueling task of investigating an arson just hours after the fire was extinguished . . . I knew there would be another fire . . . Firestarter promised me another fire.
Hoyt complicated things . . . they didn't know a thing about the current circumstances in LA . . . why the FBI was investigating fires. They didn't know about the shake up brewing at the Sunset Division . . . the Sunset Division wasn't even wise to the fact that I knew about the shake up. Corruption . . . you see it everywhere . . . it makes you sad when you know that the cop is actually a good person . . . it pisses you off when you know the cop is most likely your arsonist. Cal Hoyt . . . I had the pleasure several times . . . he was caught with cocaine last year . . . claimed that he was 'rehabilitated' this year . . . started setting fires this spring. The fires were a decoy . . . meant to sequester a good deal of the law enforcement in remote areas of the city . . . battling four to eight alarm fires. They always happened on 'drop days.' I had just become familiar with that term . . . the day that the cocaine is distributed from the warehouses that store elaborate smuggling operations . . . it's sent out to pimps, dealers, club owners, and ravers . . . the next door neighbor's teenage son probably knew how to score the coke . . . it seemed like all of LA did.
Cal had intimate knowledge of the smuggling operations . . . he spent two years investigating it . . . only to get hooked on the shit that he was supposed to be taking off the street. It started innocently . . . his informant promised him a quick hit . . . something to take the edge off of the stress his commander was putting on him. It always started innocently . . . Cal made good friends with people in the operation . . . he begged his supervisor to go undercover for a few months . . . it helped his addiction blossom. All of a sudden, Cal had money . . . his commander noticed . . . the prostitutes on Irvine sure noticed . . . his commander tried to get his partner to rat him out . . . she said that he had a drug problem. He was so deeply involved in sensitive surveillance . . . that it would have been impossible to decompress him and let him free into the drug world . . . his commander rehabilitated him . . . Cal came back . . . stupidly, he was allowed to come back to the same case . . . then all hell broke loose . . . the fires started . . . the letters to the Sunset Division started . . . they called me to profile the Firestarter . . . I did . . . Cal fit the profile.
Out of the blue, Jordan called me . . . I thought she would be perfect for the forensics . . . she was so hell bent on justice that I knew she would go to extreme lengths with me . . . I just didn't think that Hoyt would follow her. I read about James . . . about Malden . . . about Hoyt . . . I figured that she had shut him out . . . he did arrest her . . . was commanded to shoot her brother. Jordan would take it personal . . . she took everything personal.
I wanted Jordan to get attached to this case before she looked at the suspect list . . . I wanted Jordan to pursue justice in this case . . . the same way she pursued Digger. I saw the way she looked at Woody . . . I wasn't sure if that would compromise her ability to work on this case . . . to ultimately face the possibility of testifying against his brother.
Jordan's POV
"Jordan, let's go get lunch. We can go sit on the boardwalk . . . I remember how much you like the ocean," Woody said as he helped me out of bed . . . he was trying so hard . . . trying to pretend that Boston didn't exist . . . trust was so fragile . . . all the pretending in the world couldn't fix it.
"Didn't you want to go get some clothes or toiletries?" I asked . . . I didn't really want to go anywhere . . . I wanted to lay back in bed.
"That's where Nigel comes in. I called him this morning he's sending me some clothes same-day . . . they should be here this evening," Woody replied as he sat me in a chair next to the window . . . shoved a cup of coffee in front of me.
"You do realize that you are essentially asking Nigel to dress you for the next how long?" I replied . . . smiling . . . pretending . . . it felt good to momentarily forget about Boston . . . maybe he was on to something.
"As long as he doesn't pack his clothes for me . . . it couldn't be too bad," Woody replied smiling.
"Big brother, I have the stuff," someone pounding on the door yelled . . . didn't anyone around here just knock. Woody stood up and answered the door . . . I couldn't believe how much he looked like his brother . . . he never talked about his brother . . . the same blue eyes . . . stature . . . this brother was tanner . . . that was about the only difference, "Got enough clothes for you for at least a day or two . . . God, you look like hell."
"Cal, this is Jordan. Jordan, this is my little brother, Cal," Woody said . . . ignoring Cal's first comment . . . I tried to stand up, but I was too tired.
"You must be the FBI agent . . . working with Haley must be a bitch," Cal commented as he shook my hand.
"It's not easy," I replied . . . I didn't get the same vibe from Cal as I did Woody . . . Cal made me feel uncomfortable . . . his touch sent little shivers down my spine.
"Well, I'm with the Sunset Division . . . give me a call if you need any help. Wood, I need to get going. . . got some work to do," Cal said as he nearly ran out of the room.
"Is Cal always that jittery?" I asked . . . I was left confused by the initial meeting . . . nervousness, fidgeting . . . obvious signs that something deeper was going on.
"He must have something important to get to . . . he's as good as FBI . . . you know how much they work," Woody replied . . . as he disappeared into the bathroom with the clothes Cal had proved him with.
FBI agents were so much more composed than Cal . . . Cal was a disheveled mess. His hands were moving constantly . . . his mannerisms were strange . . . his rate of speech was off the charts. A thousand different psychiatric and medical diagnoses rushed into my mind . . . none of them something that an elite force officer could successfully function with if unmedicated. Something else was going on . . . I wondered if Woody knew something he wasn't telling me. Trust is a tricky thing . . . fragile . . . hard to rebuild once it is broken.
Woody's POV
I was worried about Cal . . . I had never seen him like that before. He rarely spoke of work . . . I figured it was because he was classified. He rarely spoke about his life in LA . . . never about girlfriends, dates, sporting events, or his lifestyle. I imagined that it was glamorous . . . Cal always had an eye for the most glamorous, idealistic way of life . . . he was the one that needed to leave Wisconsin to feel as though he accomplished something in his life. I left to avoid Annie . . . I'd never be able to go back . . . I couldn't sit by and watch her with someone else . . . it had been years, but I never really got over her . . . high school sweethearts . . . puppy love . . . whatever they call it. I preferred to think of it as a malignancy that successfully consumed all of me . . . taking me years to get it to dampen its hold on me.
I'm sure that Jordan noticed Cal's mannerisms . . . today, it was the only thing that really differentiated us. He was jittery . . . talking a mile a minute . . . his attention was non-existent . . . his eyes were bloodshot . . . he moved quickly . . . almost unnaturally. Jordan seemed uncomfortable around him . . . he did seem overwhelming. I was beginning to think that I had two reasons to stay in LA.
Author's Note: I'm not sure where to go with this story . . . or if I even like where it's going. Please let me know what you think about the story or what should happen! Thanks so much, Jac