AN: Ok, well, I had another note written out, but my stupid computer decided to close Word without my permission. So, we'll just say that this was inspired by Woody's little smile at the end of last night's episode. No angst like in my other story, Misdirected. Apparently, the writers want to forget that Woody was shot and almost killed eight weeks ago, so I went with a lighter mood for this. (Obviously, I'm not the happiest girl with the way things have been handled regarding his shooting. But I'm correcting that elsewhere.) W/J of course. Enjoy reading, and please review! Anne
It was funny and he couldn't keep himself from smiling sarcastically when he looked at the plain gold band around his fourth finger on his left hand. She was going to be pissed when she eventually woke up, and that was actually funny too. She had a way of getting under his skin and driving him insane, and her anger always seemed to amuse him, and do…other things to him as well. Things he never would have acted upon except he seems to remember drinking about a gallon of tequila. It had, shall we say, lowered his inhibitions enough to where he acted on an impulse. And evidently it had been so good they'd acted on another impulse. He smiled ruefully again, shaking his head, then realizing that wasn't such a good plan. He flopped back down to his pillow and patiently waited for the room to stop spinning. Ok, maybe it hadn't been a gallon of tequila…maybe only a few shots…only a few shots less than what it would normally take for him to be this hung over. Except, that he'd been on that God forsaken juice diet for a week. And really, he thought as he scowled up at the ceiling, who does that? And it was brilliant of him to drink tequila with a girl he both enjoyed being around and couldn't stand first thing after deciding to abandon all things vegetable juice. He'd just simply figured that he was tired of people looking at him like there was something wrong. Although, admittedly, he could understand why. Seven days straight of noting but juice had made him act like a hyperactive bunny. He groaned, ok, not a bunny, but at the very least hyperactive. So really, he blamed the diet. Hyperactivity and fairly large quantities of tequila didn't mix. He glanced over at his wife to find her still dead to the world and smiled again, oh she was gonna be soooo mad.
About five minutes later, he decided to chance sitting up, and found out it wasn't as bad as he'd feared it would be. He stood slowly, very slowly, and waited with his eyes closed for his stomach to make itself known, but it didn't happen. He finally cracked an eye open, just to make sure, before deciding it was ok to open both eyes and gingerly headed into the shower. He stood under the hot spray of water for several minutes, finally starting to wake up.
It was starting to be a little less funny now. Oh, her reaction would still be amusing, he was sure, but they had gotten married last night. Damn Vegas anyway for it's many liquor licenses and drive through wedding chapels. Of course, they'd get the marriage annulled. He was sure the judge had heard it all before: we were drunk, we didn't mean it, I can't even stand her. Although, that last part wasn't true. He genuinely liked Sam. He just didn't want to marry her. Then, he'd slink back to Boston and never tell a soul what had happened. After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
He thought for a minute about his friends back home…his family really. The family at the morgue that had adopted him into their fold so easily when he'd first moved to Boston. Of course, recently, he hadn't been all that wonderful to them. Well, ok, he hadn't been all that wonderful to Jordan. He winced and slapped his hand against the wet tile wall. Dammit! Why did he always have to think about her? He looked down at his now empty ring finger, the band waiting patiently for him on the bathroom counter, and rubbed a knuckle over the empty spot. Maybe because you always pictured that ring around your finger matching one around hers. Maybe because if you woke up hung over and married to Jordan in Vegas you wouldn't be so quick to want to end it, a voice spoke up in his mind. He shut his eyes against the thoughts, not wanting to admit their truth, but the words ran like a mantra through his mind. "Ok, ok, you're right. Damn it all, you're right," he finally groaned in defeat. This whole situation was starting to look less funny now. He wondered if anybody back in Boston would be able to somehow guess what had happened. He wondered more if Jordan would be able to guess what had happened. He knew with certainty that he didn't want her know. It would hurt her, and he'd been doing enough of that lately. Even if seeing her around Danny again made him regress to elementary school behavior with jealousy and a part of him wanted her to know specifically because he knew she'd be jealous, he couldn't do it.
He shut off the water with a decisive yank and just stood in the shower for a minute. God, he didn't want to go back to Boston. He considered not getting an annulment. He could talk Sam into giving it a try, he was sure, if given enough time. She was a beautiful woman, smart, sexy, funny. They could be happy together. He could move out to Vegas, work for the police out here. Never for a casino because that would mean working for Danny, but the police force out here would keep him plenty busy. And he'd never have to go back to Boston again, go back to where he'd made such a huge mess of things he didn't know how to begin making it right.
He toweled off, walked out to the bedroom where Sam was still sleeping, and pulled on some clothes. He sat on his end of the bed and looked down at his wife. No, he couldn't do it. He'd head back to Boston later today as unmarried as he was when he got here. Sam was great….but she wasn't Jordan. He didn't love his current wife. And, even with everything that had happened recently, he couldn't shake the feeling that it would eventually come together for him and Jordan. That eventually, he'd be wearing a plain gold band again, and be deeply in love with his wife. It was, after all, the same dream that had sustained him through the past few years. He opened his palm and looked again at the gold ring. The promises that went with a ring like that were too serious to be taken so lightly. He put the ring down on the bedside table; and they were promises he wanted to make with one woman only. And he couldn't do that unless he headed back to Boston, and started to forgive himself for getting shot and her for having bad timing. Gently he reached over to shake Sam's shoulder. They had a long talk ahead of them. But he couldn't keep the smile from his face.