Why the hell did I get on that f-ing elevator? Jordan scolded herself. She felt like sinking into the floor the moment she looked into those blue eyes again. Those gorgeous blue eyes that made her want to do unseemly things to him as much as she wanted to scream at him. She shook her head and tried to gain control over her nerves again, slinging her black bag onto her desk and pulling out all the files she needed. The ways in which she had been thinking about him recently had been unsettling. There was no denying her physical attraction to him in the past. But now, thoughts that she would not have dared to utter in a confessional were cropping into her psyche. Thoughts that were keeping her up at night, making her wish she still believed in one night stands just to satisfy the ache that Woody left inside of her. Although no amount of mindless physicality would ever fully satisfy that.
Why was it that the second he made her walk away, he suddenly became the most irresistible object in the universe? The last three months had taken Jordan through different stages of losing him, starting with a few days of private emotional breakdown that she was not particularly proud of. She had hidden the full extent of her pain from everyone. In her initial state of shock and grief, she tried to deny what was happening by throwing herself into work. She acted as Garret's champion, becoming obsessed with clearing his name until the review board finally agreed to a trial period just to get rid of her.
"You finally used the power of annoyance for good," Garret joked upon his return.
After his reinstatement as Chief ME, Jordan's life began to settle into its normal routine once again. The more normal it became, the more time she had to allow her mind to drift to thoughts of Woody. And the more she thought about him, the angrier she became. How dare he question the sincerity of her feelings! Well if he was going to behave like an immature idiot, then she was glad to be rid of him. She didn't have time to waste on someone who was acting so sullen. It was at this point that Jordan recognized she was working through the stages of loss: grief, denial, anger…but something funny happened after anger. Somehow, she skipped right over acceptance and jumped straight into desire. And, although she was no psychologist, she had an inkling that desire was not a piece of the loss puzzle. At least, not the kind of desire she was feeling.
Jordan reached out for a pen, forcing herself to focus on the waiting paperwork. She needed a cold shower.
"Dr. Macy, there are only a few small things that I need to go over, would you please just-"
"And I already told you I have too many things to handle right now to stop and check on an autopsy I didn't do," Garret cut Woody off. "Did you even read the report?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then you should know that the acting ME was Jordan," he snapped. "Now, I don't know what bad blood there is between you two; frankly, I don't want to know. But we all have jobs to do, so make an attempt to deflate your ego and go talk to the ME on the case!"
With that, Garret turned his back on Woody and continued sorting through his files. Woody stood in shock for a moment. Things were simply refusing to go his way today. He bit down a temptation to swear and turned on his heel to leave the office. He walked determinedly down the hall towards Jordan's office, thankful not to be met by anyone he knew. Once he reached her door, he paused. He wasn't sure where to start when he walked in there. Their disastrous encounter this morning had taken care of the first public run in. But now he had to find out if they could handle a private meeting. About a case. She might not give him the chance to say anything at all. Cursing his bad luck, he rapped on the door.
"Come in," she called out.
Woody closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. He then pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jordan looked up from her desk and blinked in surprise.
"Macy sent me to you to go over a few things on the Kefner case," he said, his voice forcing professionalism.
Jordan pointed to the door with her pen. "Would you mind closing the door? It's noisy." Her voice echoed his businesslike tone.
"No thanks, I'd prefer to leave it open for witnesses," he bit the words out before he could stop himself.
Jordan stared at him with a look that wavered between annoyance and anger. He knew he was acting childish, trying to pick a fight with her. Well, she deserves it, he thought. Instead of arguing, Jordan turned her attention back to the file in front of her and haughtily began writing again. Woody knew he had not been dismissed, but neither had he been given permission to stay. He felt a sudden wave of frustration towards her. Knowing he had to get the report filed, he did the only thing he could do: he swung the door shut and sat down in the chair opposite her, tossing the file on top of her work. Jordan froze as the file sent a sudden gust of air in her face as it landed. She calmly stopped what she was doing and opened the Kefner file.
"What would you like to know, Detective?" she asked smoothly.
Woody clenched his teeth. Detective, he thought. That's nice, Jordan.
"You're absolutely positive the bullet entered at a 22 degree angle," he grilled her. Jordan nodded. "Which implies the shooter was below him?" Again, Jordan nodded. "Most likely on the ground?"
"The angle of the shot implies an upward trajectory concurrent with a shot from a ground level location," she rattled off the facts. "Leading one to think it was done in self defense from a cowering position, if you had been there for the initial autopsy, you would have known this."
Woody glared at her. She kept her eyes level with his, not even surrendering a blink or two. Her eyes gave him the message loud and clear: the game was on. He knew her well enough to recognize when she was challenging someone. She was letting him know that she was not backing down. Not exactly the reaction her wanted from her. Woody stood up and leaned over the desk to grab the file.
"That's all I needed," he said, straightening back up.
"I hope you're happy, then," she said, forcing a small smile.
"Yeah, you too," he said coolly, walking away from her desk and opening the door to leave.
"Detective Hoyt, would you be kind enough to close the door?" she called after him, her eyes never leaving her work. Woody spared a final scathing glance at her before shutting the door forcefully.
Only after he was gone did Jordan allow her face to drop its neutral mask, her eyes looking after him. It nearly killed her to do that. But Woody had made his feelings perfectly clear to her that day in the hospital, and no amount of want on her part would ever change that. He had given up on her long before that, she was sure. She simply had to get used to things being this way. They still had to work with each other, after all, and there was no point befuddling the situation. It was easier to act as though she wasn't feeling anything. That way, at least, she didn't have the chance to hope. But if he insisted on wearing that to-die-for cologne every time he came through here, she was going to run into trouble. Jordan dropped her head into her hands despondently. There would be no sleep for her tonight.
The next two weeks found Jordan and Woody working together more than they expected. Lily and Sydney were answering for Sealy now, while Garret needed Nigel and Bug at his beckon call. Slocum had put in a bad word for Jordan upon his departure, letting the DA know that she almost aided Garret's cover up. It was generally agreed that Jordan should not be assisting Garret more than she needed to. This left her to answer Woody's calls on homicide. Their subsequent meetings did not fair much better than the first. Woody was still inwardly infuriated by Jordan's unconcerned attitude. He felt it was further proof that she never cared deeply for him in the first place. Jordan, meanwhile, was still fighting back her growing emotions for him that were only fueled by his presence.
Yet, through all this, they managed to work as successfully together as they always had. There may have been more snide comments on his part and more cool professionalism on hers, but the chemistry of solving cases was still there. Woody felt this acutely. He also began to feel the missing element of their working together – their friendship. He never thought he would miss it so much. It was the most solid relationship he had before the shooting. Nearly four months without that stability was starting to wear on him. He could swear he would catch her looking at him with the same look in her eyes she had had so many times before their lives had drifted apart; severed, really. It confused him.
Today had been one of those days for Woody. He and Jordan had been called on an apparent homicide that actually turned out to be an inconveniently positioned heart attack. At some point during the day, he glanced up and caught her staring at him. She turned away quickly, but not before he had seen her with her mask down. He saw the sorrow and regret that he had longed to triumphantly point out. Only, it did not feel quite so glorious as he planned to catch her in the vulnerable moment.
Woody sat in his kitchen nursing a beer, thinking about that moment, trying to figure out what exactly he was attempting to accomplish with her. Jordan wasn't allowing him to behave like the wounded individual that he wanted to. For two weeks, she never gave him the chance. Now, today, it just didn't seem right. Why the hell wasn't she falling apart? And why couldn't he bring himself to celebrate the small victory of seeing her show her emotions? His attempts at a grudge were failing.
His phone rang shrilly, startling him out of his thoughts. He answered it with a gruff, "Hello?"
"Hey, Woody, it's Michael Foster," the voice on the other end said.
"Mikey?" Woody registered who it was. Michael had gone to school with Woody in Wisconsin. He was now sheriff of Kewaunee. Woody's first thought was that something had happened to Cal. Michael's next words did nothing to dispel his fears.
"I'm afraid I've got some bad news, Wood."