Chapter Two

I forgot to disclaim you in chapter one. So here it is. A-hem.

I don't anything concerning Crossing Jordan. Tim Kring and Tailwind Productions own everything. And they are doing a great job with season four…and I'm so glad they've been renewed for season five…


Jordan got ready for bed in Woody's bathroom while he made up the couch for her…with mixed feelings. To hold her all night, even if he didn't feel like doing anything else, would be next to heaven.

To suggest anything that might scare her off would be disastrous. Although she has been acting more open to me lately, he thought. He didn't know if she was that open to him. He reluctantly smoothed the sheets over the cushions and fluffed the pillow. "Thanks," she told him when she emerged from the bathroom, face freshly scrubbed and dressed in girl boxers and a tank top. "Now…go get in the bed. I'll check on you before you go to sleep."

He turned away and did what he was told. Truth was, he was tired and still didn't feel good. He dropped his pants, shed his shirt, brushed his teeth, and climbed in the bed. A moment later, he heard her come in and felt her gently take his head in her hands. His blue eyes squinted up at her. She felt her heart flutter, her knees go weak, and her mouth went dry. "Jordan?" he asked.

"Cream…I was going to put some antibiotic ointment on your face where the heroin made contact with it," she stammered. She heard him chuckle softly under his breath. She lightly applied the medicine and surveyed her handiwork. "It will be all better in the morning. How's the rest of you feeling?"

"Still woozy….'

"That will be better tomorrow, too. I'll…. I'll…check on you through the night to make sure you're okay."

"Good," he said, his eyelids closing. He felt her fingers gently smooth his hair back and then felt her slight weight shift as she left the bed.

She came back twice that night…unable to sleep herself. She had worried about him nearly the entire evening…checking on him as much for her own peace of mind as it was for his safety. The last time she came in, she eased down on his side of the bed and quietly turned on the bedside light, gently turning his head so she could look at the red whelps on his face. One more application of the ointment should do it, she thought, and just as gently as had turned his head, she lightly began to apply the cream. When she finished, she capped the tube and pulled the sheet up around his chest, tucking him in closer. Before she could stop herself, she leaned over and tenderly kissed his forehead.

Unaware that Woody was awake the entire time. Before she could move, his arms went around her waist and he pulled her into his bed. "Woody…." She protested…far too weakly for Jordan Cavanaugh…with far too little fire in her voice to make Woody fear that he had done the wrong thing.

"You've been back and forth in here, checking on me twice…just stay here the rest of the night so you will know I'm okay and you can get some rest." He began pulling the covers around her snugly. "I promise…no funny stuff. I'll rest better with you here, anyway. So just …. Go to sleep, Jordan."

"Stay for awhile?" she questioned him.

"Yeah," he replied softly, spooning her closely to him…her back to his chest. "Stay for a awhile…please." He dropped a kiss on the back of her head and tightened his arms around her, listening to her breathing slow down and even out….a sure sign she was asleep. He kissed her hair one more time, lightly threading his fingers through it.

Stay for a while….the phrase she uttered absent-mindedly needled his soul. She had asked him to do that once….months before. When her apartment had been broken into…

When she had nearly been raped.

He had gone to her apartment to return her mother's locket that had been stolen and she had asked him to stay for a while. He had hugged her…still torn between her and Devan…kissed the back of her head and pretty much told her no. He wasn't interested. But "maybe we could hook up sometime."

If that wasn't a brush off, he didn't know what was. He had left her there…alone and unknown to him, frightened out of her wits. She was scared….that the intruder would return…that he would complete the act he had begun.

Of course, Woody didn't know this at the time…Nigel had finally told him some weeks later, after Woody spied the Brit leaving Jordan's apartment building. Nigel had been inside putting a new deadbolt lock on Jordan's door.

Guilt had eaten at him for weeks. He should have stayed with her. He should have been the one that put the deadbolt on.

Hell, he should have walked her inside her apartment that night the intruder was in her bedroom instead of fussing about not getting a good night kiss and leaving her alone at her door.

If Jordan felt like she had lot to make up for, he felt like he had even more. He pulled her closer and tightened his arms around her. And to his amazement, he felt her turn over and rest her head on his chest. Smiling, he snuggled her closer…Maybe it was time they started making up for lost time, interrupted kisses, and bad decisions now.


"How's Woody?" asked Garret, the next afternoon, as Jordan entered her office.

"Better….much better. He had a restful night…I think the heroin is out of his system."

"Good. So he'll be back at work today?"

"No. The chief still wants him to take a day off and make sure he's really over this. He'll be back tomorrow."

Garret nodded and went back into his office as Jordan flipped on her computer to check her e-mail, mindlessly going through the files, uploading and deleting as she needed to. She had left him about an hour ago, still somewhat out of it. She had reluctantly pulled herself from his still-sleeping form and got ready for work, when all she really wanted to do was stay there and make sure he was okay.

He came so close to dying…a fact that she could not put out of her mind. She nearly lost him. Ever since Woody had become her friend, Jordan had one continuing nightmare…that he would be killed in the line of duty and end up on her autopsy table. She had a reoccurring bad dream that she would go into the autopsy room, unzip a body bag, and find his sightless blue eyes staring up at her. She shuddered and tried to put away the memory when her cell phone rang, abruptly bringing her back to reality. "Cavanaugh," she said into the receiver.

"Don't you know it's not polite to sleep and run? You should have at least woke me up and let me cook you breakfast."