Chapter Four

Screw You

A soft knock on her door woke Jordan out of her nap. She didn't like to sleep now…the fear that she might not wake up for another two years was always in the forefront of her mind.

It had been two days since she woke up from her extended nap. In those two days she had seen Lily and Seely, Nigel and Bug, Renee', and of course, Garret – numerous times.

The only person who hadn't visited her hospital room was Woody. And she was pretty sure it was him behind the knock at her door now. She could feign sleep…and she was sure, being the gentleman that he was, he would turn around and leave….thus saving her the awkward situation of seeing an almost-ex-lover. Garret had said Woody had moved on with his life. Jordan fervently wished he would just keep moving…away from her and into his future. She had no desire to be hurt again by this man.

He knocked again. This time a little louder.

It's been two years…she swallowed hard before she said, "Come in."

The door cracked open a little wider and a white handkerchief of surrender was waved through the door followed by an extremely large bouquet of flowers. For a moment, anger flared in Jordan. How dare he…after what he said … the way he treated me …

Then the voice of reason echoed: It's been two years, Jordan.

Maybe for him…but not for her. For Jordan, it was still the day after he told her, "Screw your hunches, screw your conspiracy theories….screw you, Jordan." The rejection was still very fresh and very real to her. Trying to balance time and emotions on the head of pin was wearing thin for her.

"Can I come in?" he finally asked, still not showing his face through the opening of the door.

"Uh. Sure."

He had changed. Jordan didn't know that two years could change a person so much. When she had last saw him, he had been cold to her…ugly. Nearly hateful. He had walked with a limp, tired easily, and sometimes the pain would cause his mouth to twist into a grimace that Woody wasn't aware of.

But now….he seemed … different… again. Something close to that farm boy she had known six years ago Not as naïve, but … different. Jordan couldn't put her finger on it, but it was there….the difference. He was thinner, and his face wore a look of concern and worry…maybe even guilt.

But dear God, his eyes were still just as blue.

She watched as he sat the flowers down on the tray beside her bed and then rock back and forth awkwardly on his heels. "So…."

"Sit down Woody. I never did like you hovering."

Slowly he walked around her bed and sat down in the chair beside her. He reached out to take her hand, but stopped, not sure of what her reaction would be. The past two years had brought a myriad of emotions to him concerning her. First of all, it was guilt. He had done this to her….even though it was indirect and it surely wasn't intentional, he was still responsible. He had made sure she was hurt when she left his office that day. He saw the tears and never ran after her to check on her…help her stop crying.

Tell her he was wrong and sorry and never meant a word he said.

Instead he had sat there in his office in righteous indignation knowing that he had finally caused her as much pain as she had him. He had seen her tears. And he felt justified.

Until Garret had called him fifteen minutes later with the news about her accident.

The second emotion that moved him was concern. How was she doing? Did she sustain any brain damage? When would she wake up?

What would he do if she didn't?

Because the emotion that wrenched his gut the most was the realization of how much he loved her. And he simply didn't know what he would do if she didn't wake up at some point. He had been just existing for so long…and it wasn't until recently that Garret had urged him to move on with his plans for the future.

He hadn't been very successful….

But the wary look on Jordan's face told him that she had no clue just how he felt…that she thought things were still the same between them as they had been the day of her accident.

"So…how are you feeling?" he finally asked.

"Tired…my head hurts…" She shrugged. "Typical post-coma stuff."

Woody nodded. "When are they going to let you blow this joint?"

"Not nearly soon enough."

Woody chuckled. That sounded like the Jordan he remembered. "Any idea, though?" he asked.

"In a couple of days…as soon as I can verify I have someone to 'baby sit' me for a month or so."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd be glad to do it. She was more than welcome at his place…he now had an apartment with a spare bedroom instead of the studio one she remembered.

Evidently, she read his expression. "Garret's letting me crash with him," she finished quickly. There was no way she was rooming with Woody for any amount of time or heartache.

"Ah. Well then."

"Yeah…." Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

"Damn, this is awkward," he said suddenly.

And to her surprise, Jordan felt her eyes fill with tears. It was. Awkward that is. For despite two years, despite the fact that Woody had had the time to process what had happened between them…analyze it, deal with it, definite it, catalogue it, and categorize it … Jordan hadn't. For her, she still remembered too much. The ring. The shooting. His cutting words that had made her bleed so badly she thought if she checked under the front of her hospital gown, she'd still be hemorrhaging..

"I didn't mean to make you cry…" he blurted out, reaching for a tissue to hand her.

"It's….it's post-coma emotions…yo-yo like stuff…PMS on steroids," she lied, cursing her emotions and telling herself to get a grip.

If Woody didn't believe her, she wasn't able to tell it.

But he didn't. However, his disbelief was masked behind the cool exterior of a mature detective. "I'm sorry…"

"Sorry?"

"For making you cry….oh hell, Jordan, I'm sorry for everything….the way I treated you after my shooting. What I said….I just was hurting so badly myself…"

"That you wanted to hurt me."

"No. Yes." He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "Yes. At the beginning I did want to hurt you, because you hurt me. But later…Jordan, you have no idea what it was like coming up here and talking to you….and getting no response….not knowing if you heard me…about how sorry I was and how much I missed you."

Jordan's eyebrow raised in disbelief. "I didn't hear you…."

Woody shook his head. "Do you believe me?"

"I believe you felt guilty…for the accident….because that's the kind of person you are at the core. You may have tried to play the bastard card all cold and calculating, but I know you. You felt guilty."

Woody nodded. "I did…I should have gone after you that day…"

"And did what? Hurt me again? I don't think I would have believed your apology then anymore than I do now."

"Jordan…" Woody felt the color drain from his face and his lips go numb.

"Do you remember what you told me, Woody? About my pity?"

He nodded again, his chest suddenly feeling too tight to hold his ribcage.

"You don't do pity, Woody. I don't do guilt. Screw your guilt. Screw you."

He stood then, and Jordan caught a glimpse of the man she knew minutes before her car crash. In a split second, he became cold, bitter….hostile towards her once again. "As you wish," he said, and turning on his heel, he left her hospital room, the door banging softly behind him.