Lightening

"I can not believe that bastard ripped my jacket," Woody said vindictively as he fumbled with the keys to let them into the house.

"You get into a fight not even four months after having major surgery on your spine, and you're worried about your jacket?" Jordan asked incredulously.

"It's a nice jacket," Woody argued, finally managing to open the front door.

"Reevaluate your priorities, farm boy," Jordan told him as they stepped into the house. Woody reached for the light switch on the wall and flipped it up. When nothing happened, he tried a few more times. The house remained dark except for the grey light coming through the windows.

"Power got knocked out here, too," he said, stating the obvious. He removed his wet jacket and looked at it sadly. Jordan rolled her eyes.

"Oh my God, give me the jacket," she said, holding her hand out. Woody handed it over, and Jordan looked at the shoulder seam that had been torn apart. "This isn't that bad, I can fix it."

"Excuse me?" Woody asked, confused.

"I can sew this back together. I thought I saw a sewing kit in my room the other day," she said, giving the rip one more look. Woody stared at her like he'd never seen her before.

"I never pictured you as the domestic type," he said, quite surprised.

"Well after a year in home-ec class in high school, something had to stick," she stated, turning to go upstairs.

Once in her room, she changed out of her damp clothes and slipped into a pair of grey pajama pants, a tank top, and a knit cardigan. She retrieved the sewing box and went downstairs to find Woody encouraging a fire in the fireplace. The house was remarkably dark thanks to the continuing storm outside, and the flames gave off a bit of light in the living room. Jordan settled herself on the sofa and set to work on the jacket. Having successfully started the warming fire, Woody took the opportunity to go upstairs to change into dry clothes as well, and by the time he returned Jordan had sewn half the damaged area on his jacket.

"I still don't believe you know how to sew," he said, kneeling in front of the fireplace to add another piece of wood.

"It's not too different from suturing a body, actually. And I've done my fair share of that," she said. Woody grimaced.

"Please don't make that association again," he begged her, sure he would never be able to look at a sewing machine the same way again.

"Never," she smiled. It never ceased to amuse her how squeamish he got about autopsies or anything to do with them.

They fell into a comfortable silence for several minutes. The only sounds in the room were the pop of the firewood from the flames and the rain drumming against the house. Woody stared into the fire, baffled at the ease of the moment, as if two days ago they hadn't been at each other's throats. He glanced at Jordan, bathed in firelight, mending his jacket as though she did this every day of her life. He could get used to that sight.

Woody never thought he would find his ideal in Jordan. A hot romance, yes. But everything he could ever be satisfied with? That came as a surprise. Jordan, as much trouble as she was, inevitably brought him his sanity. This trip had done everything to prove that to him. Without her, he became something to loathe, and pity. She could bring him back. Even now, in the midst of his chaos, she saved him from his own destruction.

"All fixed," Jordan announced, breaking into his thoughts. She stood up and held the jacket out to him. "Try it on, make sure it's comfortable."

Woody stood and slipped the jacket on. It felt fine to him, but Jordan slid her hand along his shoulder critically, looking for a mistake. Not really seeing anything, she took hold of the lapel area and straightened the jacket out.

"I don't understand why you went and got in a fight like a high schooler, anyway," she said as she checked her work. "I'm hardly worth the effort," she added with a smirk.

Woody backed out of her reach and looked down at the fire, trying to sort out what he was feeling.

"Do you really think that about yourself?" he asked her quietly.

"I've always thought you could do better than me," she said after a moment. "I never wanted you to actually succeed…but I thought it. I guess that's selfish. I'm sure you would have been better off staying here – never getting involved with me."

Shaking his head in frustration and regret, he said, "You don't get it, do you? Don't you see what this place…? These people…" He trailed off, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes to stop the onslaught of tears that were threatening him. The last thing that he wanted was to break down in front of her.

"Woody," Jordan said gently, stepping closer to him. She ran her hands up his forearms, taking hold of his hands and pulling them away from his face. His eyes were brimming with moisture, dark as the storm outside. "Hey…talk to me."

He took a deep breath and looked at her, feeling her hands holding his so tightly.

"I hate what I am here, Jordan. I moved to Boston to get away from it. I should have known better than to think I could change that much…it blew up in my face four months ago."

"Woody, you were going though something horrible. Nobody could blame you," Jordan tried to console him.

"That day in the hospital, Jordan…that wasn't the first time I've behaved like that," he told her solemnly. "I've destroyed relationships that way before…forced someone to walk away because I couldn't fix what was wrong." He stopped, swallowing hard as the memories returned to him. He had been locking this away for so long, determined to become a different person. It was hard to tell her this. But if he couldn't tell Jordan, who could he tell? "You survive your problems. They fuel your will to live. I…walk away from mine. Because if I try to deal with them, I will destroy myself, and I'll bring everyone else down with me. I left to escape it all, to escape what I was turning into. Boston was my new beginning. And I wanted you to be a part of it."

"Boy did you pick the wrong girl," she smiled a little at him, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. He gave her a small laugh.

"It worked, for a while. You became my reason for changing."

"And then?" she asked, her brow down in concern.

"And then…my past ran up and bit me in the ass," Woody said. "I turned back into the person I hated."

"Woody," Jordan said firmly. "This is not you. Ever since the shooting, the person I've seen is furious at life…and bitter, and alone. And it's not you. The Woody I know isn't like that."

"How do you know, Jordan? How can you be sure I'm not doomed to follow their fate?"

Jordan looked at him in confusion. He glanced away from her, grief and shame pulling at him.

"My father, David…Cal. How long before I end up like one of them?"

"You are not them, Woody. Do you understand me?" she told him firmly, placing a hand against his face to make him look at her. "You are good, and kind, and passionate and a million other things that make you so much better at the battles in life. What happened to them is not your fault, and you are way too strong to let yourself end up like that. I know you. You're my best friend. You're…unbelievably wonderful."

You're the man I fell in love with, she added to herself, unable to say it aloud. His blue eyes on her caused the words to catch in her throat. He looked like he was searching her face, looking for the truth in what she was saying. She barely noticed him lean in closer to her until he was only inches away. She had never felt more nervous in her life, knowing with great certainty what was about to happen between them. Woody brought his lips to hers softly, almost tentatively, holding her face in one hand while the other slipped around her waist to draw her closer.

Jordan melted into his arms, matching the tenderness of his kisses. Part of her was giving off warning signals, telling her he was in too vulnerable a state right now. But he reached for me…I've wanted that for so long, she argued. This argument won out as Woody's hands began to explore her body, questioningly at first, and then more boldly when she gave him no protest. Jordan felt her senses coming alive as he deepened their kisses, his fingers gliding along the skin underneath her shirt. She slid her hands along his chest and under his jacket, slipping it off of him and dropping it absently to the ground. Woody returned the favor by taking hold of the zipper of her cardigan and pulling it down, removing the garment. He dropped his mouth to her neck, eliciting a slight gasp from her as she gripped his shoulders tightly. God, he's well built, she thought, tilting her head to encourage his actions.

"Do you…?" he trailed off breathlessly, momentarily lacking the talent for speech and hoping she would understand him. His body flush against hers left little to her imagination about where he hoped this would go.

"Yes," she murmured. "Whatever it is, just…yes."

Woody led her upstairs. Jordan couldn't tell which was louder, the pounding of their hearts or the rain crashing into the roof above his bed. The storm outside seemed to be echoing the fervent rhythm between them. Woody's touch made her deliriously elated – every repressed emotion she had ever felt for him bursting into her mind until, for the first time in years, she was blissfully ignorant of everything in the world but him. Lightening seared and lit up the bedroom, followed seconds later by the crash of thunder. Woody clung tightly to her.

"I love you, Jordan," he whispered in her ear. "Please…tell me this isn't a dream. Don't let things go back to before."

"It isn't," she said as she stroked his hair, tears of joy brimming in her eyes. "And I won't."