In the realm of bad things, this was a very bad thing indeed.
Woody hoisted himself over the door into the knee-high water and sloshed around to Jordan's side of the car. She still had a death grip on the steering wheel.
"You okay, Jordan?"
She nodded slowly. "Fine..."
He held his arms out. "Here, I'll carry you. The water is kind of deep."
She pulled herself out of her seat and sat on the top of the car door. "I can manage."
"Just let me help you, Jordan. You'll ruin your dress."
"And we wouldn't want that to happen," she muttered as she grabbed her purse and threw one leg over the side of the car.
"Come on, Jordan..."
"I said I..." Before she could finish, he scooped her up in his arms and set her down on the bank.
"Thanks," she said grudgingly and rummaged through her purse for her cell phone. "I guess I should call Reed."
She moved away and dialed the number. Woody couldn't make out the words, but he could hear her hushed, urgent tones. There was a long pause where he assumed Reed was responding, then she spoke again, short and sharp.
After a moment, she snapped the phone shut and turned back toward Woody. "That went well," she said with grim sarcasm. "He's calling a tow truck, and he said he'd let Kristi know where we were." His stomach flipped. He supposed he should call Kristi himself, but he didn't.
He watched Jordan mutely, unsure of what to say.
"He's just mad right now," he started uneasily. "I'm sure after he thinks about it, he'll just be glad you're okay."
She gave him a half-hearted smile, and he knew he was wrong. She was miserable and had somehow gotten herself stuck, as irretrievably stuck as that Jaguar. In past times, Woody had been Jordan's protector, and it was a role he had played willingly. But he couldn't save her from this, and he ached to see her so defeated.
She sighed and sat down on a fallen log with her elbows on her knees.
It was not his place anymore. They had been out of each other's lives for two years, but somehow this secluded spot had created an instant intimacy between them. He came over and sat silently beside her.
"Are you okay, Jordan?"
"Yeah. I said I was fine."
"No, I don't mean the accident...."
She looked up at him, somehow stunned that he had seen through her not-too-convincing facade. Her face fell, and she looked away.
"I'm fine. Things are just crazy right now."
He wouldn't pursue it. He nodded and walked down to the water's edge. The pond rippled with a light breeze, and the peace was broken only by buzz of the cicadas.
The drive up had been exhilarating and it had brought them to this lovely, hidden place. It occurred to him that it was just the kind of day he wanted to have with Jordan. Minus the stunningly bad judgment and the wrecked Jaguar.
Her voice cut through the stillness. "Are you glad you left Homicide?"
He cocked his head in thought. It wasn't something he'd given much thought to. It had always seemed like something he needed to do rather than something he wanted to do.
"They keep me busy, that's for sure," he said after a beat. "Technically it was a promotion. I've got a couple of rookies under my supervision. It's not bad." He shrugged indifferently.
He tossed a rock and it landed with a plunk in the middle of the pond.
"Why'd you do it?" she asked quietly. "Why'd you take the transfer?"
He tossed another rock. "That's easy. No homicide, no dead bodies. No dead bodies, no Jordan Cavanaugh."
He turned to her then and his eyes met hers. He suspected she had always known why he left homicide, but she quickly looked away in remorse.
She stood and without speaking she walked through the thicket of trees up towards the road to wait for the tow truck.
XXXXXXX
It was another 20 minutes before the truck rumbled into view. The driver shook his head at the sight of the semi-submerged Jaguar and went wordlessly to work.
Kristi was not far behind. She pulled the car over with a screech, and Woody scrambled up the bank.
"You coming, Jordan?"
She shook her head. "Nah, you guys go on."
"Jordan..."
"It's okay. I'll hitch a ride with the driver."
He stood hesitantly with one hand on the door handle. Kristi's voice came from inside the car. "Wood-y. She said she's okay."
He waited for a moment and then slid into the passenger seat.
He held his breath and waited for Kristi to speak. Her lower lip was quivering, and her big eyes were welled with tears. She sniffed.
"I don't understand. Is she prettier than me?"
Woody sighed. "I'm sorry, Kristi. I'm really, really sorry."
"You said it wouldn't be a problem. You said you were over her," she sniveled.
"That's not it," he said wearily. "It's just...I felt completely out of place at that party, and she was the only other person there I knew. It was stupid."
"It's my fault," Kristi wailed. "It's me, isn't it? I've neglected you terribly since I got this new job. Do you want me to quit? Is that what you want?"
"No! No! Look, I'm sorry. It was wrong. It was all my fault, and I apologize. All right? I'm sorry."
She drove on and sniffed once, loudly.
"You still want to get married, don't you, Woody?"
"Yes, of course."
"You don't have feelings for her?
"No."
"You're not in love with her?"
"No."
"Good." She looked over at him. She was remarkably dry-eyed, and her voice was ice-cold. "Then you can promise me you'll never see her or speak to her again."
XXXXXX
Jordan and Reed were locked in a contest of wills, as it so frequently was between them. They didn't speak. Not from the time she was dropped off at John Hogan's house, not during the car ride back to the city in the hastily delivered rental car, not as they pulled up in the drive to Reed's place. He got out of the car and went in the house and headed up the stairs. She walked several paces behind.
"You're going to have to speak to me eventually, Reed," she said from the foot of the stairs. She had conceded this round.
He spun around and pointed down at her accusingly. "Don't start, Jordan. It seems to me I have the right to be angry with you on about ten different levels, so really. Don't start with me."
He turned back and stormed up the stairs to the landing. She ran after him.
"Hey, don't walk away! I'm sorry about the car, but I'm not some teenager who stole the keys to her dad's Buick!"
"No, Jordan, you're an adult. If you were a teenager, your little joyride might at least be understandable." He was in the bedroom now. He whipped his shirt off angrily.
"Do you know how boring that barbecue was? I was going out of my mind! What was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to show me some respect and consideration. And not leave. And not steal my car. And not run off with your old boyfriend."
She wagged a finger at him. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? About Woody? You're jealous!"
"Tell me, Jordan. How am I supposed to feel?!" He raised his hands above his head in exasperation.
He paced the floor for a moment, then turned to her suddenly, his hands on his hips. His face had changed. His eyes were cold and narrow. She gasped. It was a look she had never seen before, and it sent a sudden frisson of terror through her. When he spoke, his voice was calm and dripped with acid.
"I don't know what I am supposed to feel, Jordan. To be jealous would imply that I feel threatened. And really, that's just comical. How can I be threatened by that mediocrity of a detective with his Florsheim shoes and his Fantastic Sam's haircut and his glorified-secretary of a fiancee? But if that's the way you want to play it, I'll play it. I don't want you to see him again."
The words sent her reeling. She had always suspected, feared, that there was this side to him, but she had always believed that he saved his cruelty and ruthlessness for the courtroom and back room political negotiations. "I'm a grown woman. You can't tell me what to do."
He turned from her and continued to undress. He calmly dropped his watch into the tray on his dresser. "I'm not telling you, Jordan. I'm asking you. I would hope that would be enough."
She turned then and went into the closet that had been designated hers. She randomly pulled some clothes off the hangers and stuffed them into a duffle bag.
"What do you think you're doing, Jordan?" He asked with curiosity, rather than concern.
"You know what? You haven't even asked me how I am. You haven't even said, 'Gee, I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad you weren't hurt.'"
She came out from the closet and grabbed a set of keys from the dressing table. "I'm taking the Expedition. Or do I need permission?"
"Where are you going?"
"To my apartment. It is still my apartment, isn't it? I do still have something of my own." She dashed out of the room and into the hallway.
"JoJo, wait." His voice had softened. She hesitated and set the bag down for a moment. "That's it, JoJo. Now. Come back in here," he crooned. "And we'll talk about this."
She picked up the bag. "My name is Jordan."
She ran down the stairs and into the night.
x