Chapter Seven
The path to hell is paved with good intentions.
And Jordan found that to be true….the hard way.
She finished the preliminary reports on Lee Stewart…checked the ballistics with Nige and scheduled trace on the body to begin first thing the next morning. It was too late in the afternoon to begin any kind of procedures…although scrapings from under the fingernails had been taken and few other basic tests had been run. Results were still pending.
Gathering the reports, Jordan did what she had promised Woody she would do…take them to him at the precinct – her good intentions. Completely innocent and just what she said she would do. She changed from her scrubs back into her jeans and shirt and walked over from the morgue to his office.
That's when hell got a little closer than she ever dreamed. She rode the elevator up to his floor, stepped out, turned the corner, and entered his office…to find Woody sitting in his office chair with Santana sitting in his lap.
She felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of her lungs. Quickly regrouping mentally, she laid the reports down on Woody's desk. "Ummmm… here are the preliminary reports you asked for on the Stewart case…including the ballistics. I asked Nigel to push them this afternoon and he did. If you have any questions, you know where to find me. Sorry if I interrupted anything…" she turned to go.
Oh shit, Woody thought. Santana dropped by his office when she saw the light on…she didn't know that Woody was coming back to work that day…she was surprised and delighted when she saw him…but not the way Jordan thought. Santana was like the kid sister Woody never had…she had breezed into his office, plopped down on his lap, and had hugged him…and made him promise never, ever to chase snipers again. Then proceeded to tell him about the trouble she was having with her boyfriend….that was when Jordan walked in….and by the fleeting, crumpled look on her face, he knew Jordan had taken things the wrong way … "Jordan…wait…stop…come back," he called, standing up so abruptly that Santana nearly tumbled out of his lap.
"Want me to go talk to her?" the young female detective asked. Santana was more than aware of Woody's feelings for Jordan. He had discussed Jordan with her as much as Santana had turned to Woody for advice about the no-good man in her life.
Woody sighed and sat back down. "No…that's okay….things are kind of on stand still with us right now, anyway."
"Then what she thought she saw may keep it there, man. Let me go speak to her and explain."
"She wouldn't believe you or me right now, but thanks anyway. The best thing I can do is let her calm down a little and then try to talk things over with her."
"I'm sorry, man. If I would have known she was on her way over…."
"I know…it's okay." Woody ran his fingers through his hair. He had made a huge, colossal mess of things….and he had no idea how to straighten it out. His neat little plan to force Jordan to realize what her life would be life without him was backfiring horribly. It now looked like he was facing an interminable amount of time without her.
Jordan never remembered how she made it back over to the morgue. Her whole system went on automatic pilot until the cold February air hit her as she left the precinct. Then she fought tears the rest of the way back to her office. She was going to go home…go home and have a good cry and then get up tomorrow and face her life again.
A life without him. Well, after all the times she had requested that they just remain friends…now she was getting what she asked for. She had no claim on him. If a dozen, young, beautiful female detectives wanted to sit on his lap, she had no right to protest.
Woody was not hers. And didn't want to be.
It was a good thing he didn't hear her that night at the hospital she had whispered in his ear that she loved him. It was a good thing he didn't feel her light kisses. He would have had a good laugh at her expense.
And it was a really good thing he didn't know who gave him CPR. And she had requested that he not be told. She arrived at her office, gathered her coat and pocketbook and strode towards the elevators.
"Where you heading, love?" Nigel called out from his office. He had seen her face when she re-entered the morgue.
Not turning to face him, but staring at the elevator doors in front of her, she replied. "Home…I'm tired."
Nigel did believe she was tired, but also didn't think that was all there was to it. She'd tell him….in her own time.
"Good. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
Jordan nodded as the elevator doors opened. She got inside and punched the lobby button. Home…a hot shower…and bed. But who was she kidding…she knew she wouldn't sleep again tonight.
Every time she closed her eyes, a pair of blue eyes haunted her dreams….and she would just get to the point where she would begin to sleep deeply when the same dream would wake her up…They were in her apartment…in her bedroom. He was clad only in his pajama bottoms….holding her….skimming kisses down her neck, along her collarbone… then her shoulder, pushing the tiny straps of her nightgown down on her arms…
And then he would abruptly push her away….and leave her apartment.
She would wake up crying then….missing him…aching for his touch…
Much like she was right now.
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
Woody was learning that the hard way, in a very personal manner. She had talked to him…on a professional level only. They were still working on the Stewart case together.
The one time he tried to talk to her on a personal level… about what she thought she saw in his office, she'd shut him down. "Hey…it's none of my business, Wood. You said you were tired of chasing me and weren't going to do it any more. So if you're chasing other women…good for you. Especially if they stand still and let you catch them. I have no claim on you… So don't worry about me…it's over…truly over between us and it's time we both move on."
He was ready to move on, but not in the way she was thinking. He wanted to move on to the next level of their relationship….he just had to get her preconceived theory that they were through out of her head.
So he gave her two weeks. Two weeks of only speaking to her about the Stewart case. Two weeks of being strictly professional with her while fighting the desire to hold her and kiss her. He figured that was probably enough time to get her to calm down and consider his next request.
So on a Thursday night…a night he knew she was pulling doubles … he made quick trip to the florist and got four long-stemmed red roses…one for every year he had waited on her, and walked over to the morgue. "Is she here?" he asked Nigel, who was getting ready to go home.
"Yeah, she's in her office," Nigel replied, eyeing the flowers. "Good luck, mate."
Woody nodded and made the long, slow walk to her room at the end of the hall. The door was closed and she didn't answer his soft knock. Gingerly, he tried the knob and felt door give. Letting himself into her office, he found her sound asleep on the couch, exhausted from her long hours, with her hair spread out around her like a dark halo…her lashes fanning out over the circles under her eyes. She was resting and resting well. He wasn't going to be the one to wake her up. Laying the roses on the desk, he scribbled a note on a piece of paper and then put the flowers on top of the message. Brushing her hair back gently, he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and left, shutting the door behind him.
Now if she'd only say yes….
