Chapter Two

Funny

Jordan stared at herself in front of the mirror for a long time. Funny how twenty-four hours and a spin of the earth could completely rearrange your world.

Yesterday, she was Jordan Cavanaugh…Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh, ME for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts…single woman…independent…smart…strong … in love with a Boston policeman.

Today, she was Jordan…victim of a sexual attack. Gamely she applied more cover stick to the dark circles under her eyes. She had spent most of the night in the emergency room of the hospital…after a neighbor found her in the parking deck and drove her there. She had endured the exam…answered the questions…but requested that the emergency room workers not call the police. They could turn in what clothing they needed to into law enforcement as evidence, but leave her anonymous. Since she was an ME, she'd file the report with a detective she felt comfortable with the next day.

And they had believed her. After all, she had her ME badge in her purse. What wasn't there to believe?

Everything. She had no intention of ever filing the report. She was a big girl…she should have known better than to walk across the parking deck without being aware of her surroundings. That, coupled with the fact the perp at least had some idea of where she lived…and may retaliate if she did file a report, kept her from coming forward. Well…that and the feeling of guilt and shame that most victims of sexual assault feel. She swallowed her fears and tamped down her hysteria as she got ready for work. The best way to cope was by keeping busy. And God knows Slokum was more than willing to help her in that area.

She donned a large, shapeless shirt that buttoned up to her neck and an old, baggy pair of jeans. She hadn't lied to Jack Slokum. She didn't feel good this morning. She still didn't feel good. She wondered if she ever would again.

"Ah. Jordan. There you are," Woody said, walking down the hall of the morgue to her office. "Are you feeling better? Slokum said you were sick this morning."

Nervously Jordan fidgeted with the top button of her shirt. Surely Woody hadn't found out…surely he didn't know. Not him…not of all people, him. "I'm…better. Thanks."

"Good. Berman is on vacation and the chief wanted me to see if you could answer some questions on one of his cases so we can get it closed. You did the autopsy…do you remember?"

Jordan gazed at Woody for a moment…her eyes clearly not focusing.

"Jordan?" Woody asked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He doesn't know…he doesn't know…no one knows except me…and him…the man that attacked me…..Jordan kept repeating to herself as she began to avert attention to the file Woody had spread out on her desk. "Sorry….must be the medication I'm on…" she responded, all the while hating herself for lying to Woody. "Let me take a look." For the next half hour, she gamely looked through the murder investigation and answered Woody's questions, sighing with relief when the detective shut the file and thanked her…he'd be able to close the case now and the chief would be happy.

Giving her one more glance before he left the morgue on his crutches, Woody still sensed something wasn't right with her. "Jordan…are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. Have a good afternoon, Woody." And with that she turned towards her computer….focusing once again on Garret's case.

He paused for one more moment. He had told her they both needed to move on…that he didn't want to see her outside of work…but something wasn't right with Jordan. He couldn't put his finger on it…but something wasn't normal with her…or as normal as Jordan gets. Something funny was going on. Tentatively he cleared his throat. She didn't turn back to him. So he spoke: "Um…Mexican tonight after work? Santana said that you came by yesterday to see if I wanted to go last night. I think I could handle it tonight."

"Huh? What? Mexican? Tonight? No…not tonight…"

"Tomorrow for lunch?" he pressed, determined to find out what was bothering her.

"Lunch? Why?"

"You know….just forget it. Bad idea…" he replied, sputtering in frustration.

She nodded and turned back to her computer.

He had told her they both needed to move on…and that he didn't want to see her outside of work. Evidently she had taken his words to heart.

The rest of the afternoon had dragged for Jordan. Her muscles rebelled against sitting too long…they were still sore and stiff from last night….She had stayed later that five…even though in a fit of generosity Slokum had told her she didn't need to stay late to make up for the time she was gone this morning.

She was waiting on Nigel. More than anything else, she dreaded going back to her apartment and the parking garage by herself. She was hoping she could entice Nigel to come home with her for some Chinese takeout and a movie. She waited until she saw him turning the lights off in his office. "Nige?" she asked softly.

"Love…feeling better?"

"Yeah. Some. Say, I was wondering if you'd like to come over for some Chinese and a movie tonight?"

"Chinese and a movie…gee, as enticing as that sounds Jordan, every time you and I get together, I end up drinking too much and falling asleep on your couch."

Jordan gave him a grin. "And this is a problem, how?"

Nigel returned her grin with a sad smile. "Well, for two reasons, love. First, we all have to be on time in the morning and if I spend the night on your sofa…as heart warming as the thought is, I'd be late for work because I would have to go home, shower, and change clothes. And second…what on earth would Woody think?"

Jordan bit her bottom lip before looking up in his eyes. "Well, you could go home first and grab some clothes just in case you do end up on my couch and who cares what Woody thinks?"

Nigel gave her a puzzled look "I thought you did. After all, you've told him that you love him…"

"And he could care less. Please, Nigel?"

The one thing Nigel was not going to do…at least in his mind…was become a pawn or go-between in the saga of Jordan and Woody. And if he spent the night on Jordan's couch…as innocent as that would be….Woody might take it the wrong way.

And despite what Jordan had said about not caring what Woody thought, the Brit knew damn good and well she really did care. So there was no way he was going to muck up in any way, shape, or form whatever it was that they all had together, either his and Jordan's friendship, or her and Woody's….whatever.

"Let me take a rain check, okay, Jordan? I'm bushed. All I want to do is go home, catch thirty minutes of 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?' and go to bed. Next time?"

Jordan tried to steel her features…so she wouldn't show Nigel how disappointed she was. "Sure…next time." She walked with him to the elevators.

"Definitely next time…" Nigel responded, allowing her to punch the down button. Funny…he could have sworn he saw her fingers shaking.