PART II - WHO'S SORRY NOW?
When the elevator doors opened, it looked like it would be a typical day at the office. But there was an ominous silence that hung in the air, in tune with the rain that was drizzling down onto the roof tops and sidewalks and streets of Boston. Lily walked slowly down the hall. She needed to know what was in her personnel file, exactly. What to do, what to do? She'd lain awake all night torn between a million thoughts. She felt terribly guilty somehow, and she wondered if maybe it wasn't time to get out of this place. Go back to Pennsylvania maybe? She could possibly find work in Philly, Harrisburg, Pittsburgh? Ridiculous, she thought. She hadn't even known Garret when this big cover-up had occurred. Maybe if she had she could have said something, done something. But she couldn't sit around and feel guilty -- that was just pointless. She mindlessly grabbed a stack of papers from her in-box. The words were just a blur and she realized that she was crying. Bug had seen her walk in. She looked pale and tired and very vulnerable. He hated the fact that Dr. Macy was the one who had upset her so much. He knew what that meant - her feelings for him remained unchanged, despite the desperate puppy Seely hanging around every corner. He steadied himself, looked through the glass and hurried inside. He would just be all business. It couldn't be any other way. "I need you to meet with the Raimes family….They're son was hit by a car last night. They'll be in to ID the body at about …." But he couldn't hold in his concern any longer. "Are you okay?"
"How can I be okay? How can anything be okay?" Lily started. She glanced down at the visitor's passes sitting neatly piled on the corner of her desk, on top of a sign-in sheet. "I guess I'm in charge of this too, huh?" she said. "Bug….what happened!"
He shook his head. "I don't know, Lily….I just don't know."
Stragglers meandered in to the conference room in response to memos posted on desks and doors and - if one had bothered to check - on the bulletin board. Some of them were noticeably late. It was a small sign of disrespect, but it was too soon to give Slocum a chance, and because of the way Dr. Macy had been ousted, no one was sure of what to do anyway. He'd been such an example to them after all…A great boss, always expecting them to give their best. More than a father-figure. He cared about what went on in the morgue, what effort they put into their work, even sometimes what went on in their personal lives. A boss that cared…a novelty now, right? Well, Slocum would have to really prove something. Everyone knew it. No one more than the man himself.
"I expect all my medical examiners on time, and we'll have a meeting every morning to assign cases," Jack Slocum was a little stern, but he knew he had a difficult week ahead of him. Probably months, if he really wanted to stick around. No, best to take charge now and show his soft spots later, if they would let him. Who knew that Garret Macy's shoes would be so hard to fill? "This is not negotiable. If you miss the meeting, you don't get cases, and if you don't have cases, you might as well stay home. There are plenty of people we can train to take your place…Your choice, ladies and gentlemen," he gave them a stern smile, a tight-lipped we'll-just-see-who's-in-charge look, and it wasn't lost on them.
Nigel and Bug looked at one another, and their responding "who-does-he-think-he-is!" look wasn't lost on Slocum. Those two would need some watching. He would have to try to gain their trust quickly, though - already a gargantuan task it seemed - and maybe the others would follow. Big maybe. He looked around the room, trying to gauge other faces, other reactions. Other absences.
And one person's absence was more than noticeable. Damn. He knew others would follow her example too. He'd have to tread lightly there, though….After all, she was the one who'd uncovered the truth, the one whose sharp wit had caused Garret Macy's disclosure. She excelled at this job -- had more than a knack for it -- and he really couldn't afford to start losing medical examiners, regardless of what he'd just told the staff. He rubbed at his temples. God, what a headache this was, and it was only just beginning.
Impatiently Jordan dialed the number again. He had to be around somewhere, right? No answer. She threw the phone across the room. Damn it! How the hell was she supposed to get in touch with Cal if he wouldn't answer the damn cell phone! She looked at the clock and groaned. Late for work. Great. She was already off to a bad start with Slocum. Oh well, screw it. She needed to find Cal first. Woody was supposed to have a second surgery and someone needed to be with him. It sure as hell couldn't be her. She hit re-dial and waited, her eyes bloodshot. But whether that was from lack of sleep or the bottle of vodka now lying empty was anybody's guess.
The longer she waited, the less she cared about the job. At least she tried to tell herself that over and over. But in between the long silence and dialing Cal's number again and again, she called Dr. Howard Stiles and told him she'd be dropping by that morning. Hmm, maybe she did care…a little.
Max stood outside the ICU. God, the kid really did look awful. Nigel had told him the situation was grave, but Nigel was an exaggerator at times. Actually, Max was a little surprised that Jordan wasn't there. He thought she was in love with him - that she had been for quite some time - but with Jordan who could really tell? Certainly not him. She was so good at keeping secrets….a family trait. He shook his head ruefully. Was it too late for Jordan to have some kind of normal life? "Well, here goes!" he muttered and walked into the room. Woody didn't stir. Max quietly pulled up a chair, prepared to wait it out. He really had no idea what was going on between them, but he was going to find out once and for all. Jordan did deserve some happiness, some sense of normal - something he'd never been able to give. But maybe Woody could. And maybe it would make up for….well, plenty of time to think about that.
Jordan walked in to the office of Dr. Howard Stiles, her long locks dripping wet, her sweater damp and clingy. "Well, sexy… So we meet again!" Stiles was crude as ever. He'd been expecting her for months, but Dr. Macy had never pushed the issue except when necessary. In fact, Macy had been all too happy to let Jordan keep her demons locked inside. Disaster occurred any time she confronted her past, and frankly she was a better employee when she had an axe to grind. He looked down at her file. How the hell the new chief got her to agree to meet with him was…well, he should buy that man a drink. He looked up grinning, some comment poised on his lips. But the look on Jordan's face stopped whatever smart-ass or sexual innuendo he was going for next. "Jordan…." he began, surprised by her obvious pain and anguish.
She pushed past him and plopped into a chair. "Well, where do we start?" she demanded. She was edgy and frustrated, and she never had gotten in touch with Cal. Instead she'd called Garret and left a message, asking him to check on Woody. Then, never being one to worry about regular working hours -- and besides, she had a lot of vacation time she'd never used anyway, she thought wryly -- she'd headed over to see Dr. Stiles and get this thing out of the way, just in case…
She didn't let her mind dwell there too long. She was primed and ready to run, but something -- someone -- was holding her here in Boston, and she knew it. After hours of sitting in the shadows drinking and replaying their conversation, then tossing and turning all night - and intermittently trying to reach Cal - she'd come to the conclusion that Woody must have been too doped up to understand what she'd said. At least that's what she hoped. And it all came down to that. How stupid could she have been!
She brushed a stray hair out of her face and just sat there.
Where to even begin? The first day she'd met him -- which was the day when an old flame had popped into her life and made her question whether or not she was ready for something deeper in a relationship? She remembered it vividly. Woody had asked her if she liked his tie. She hadn't. He said he'd get another one….and he had. Unbelievable, she'd thought. Naïve, she'd thought. He won't last, she'd thought. I can have a lot of fun with this one, she'd thought….it's too easy, he's too easy. And that had evolved into light banter and teasing and comfort and friendship and something electric that hung in the air between them. But she hadn't been aware of it for a long time.
What else? Hmmm…The day he'd told her he would fix everything for her, go with her to wherever it was she was going, without even knowing. He'd rescued her from Herman Redding. "You could have died," he'd said. And there had been urgency in his voice, a tone that was new and that she brushed off as maybe fear of losing his career….It had never occurred to her at the time that maybe it was the fear that he could have lost her.
Or that she'd rescued him from the weird paranoid and delusional man in the desert who thought they were aliens after they had kissed by the camp fire? Maybe it was when they were all together at her father's bar, trying to solve an old murder case? When they'd danced together, sang together, laughed together, solved cases together. He'd always been there to rescue her, she thought, clearly seeing it for the first time…facing it and owning it. Yes, and there was also the fact that he knew her almost better than she knew herself. He'd told her once that she was like an addict. She couldn't help herself but dig into the past, run toward the danger. He had been so right. And she had been so blind. And now?
While all these thoughts were running through her mind, Stiles was patiently waiting. Jordan was…well, Jordan. And everything about Jordan was just complicated. He could see so many emotions playing across her face and he wondered what she was thinking. You needed to let her start the conversation if you were ever going to get anywhere with her. He thought back to all the clients he'd had over the years. Well, this was one the books hadn't ever prepared him for! Every time he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could actually help her and clear up some of her angst, she would throw him a curve ball….or run. He thought he saw that same look, wondered if she was planning her escape. But he just waited.
Jordan was playing with the bottom of her shirt, twisting it this way and that. "I need your help," she finally stated simply.
"Well, that's what they pay me for…" He tried to make light of the situation because he really wasn't sure how to handle her this time. He wasn't sure that his old tried-and-true methods and questions and suggestions would work this time. He took a deep breath. He was wondering….Maybe she'd finally solved her mother's murder and then what? That was an integral part of who she was, it made her tick. Maybe he should've stayed home. "What seems to be troubling you this time, Jordan? Old demons again? New clues surface?"he joked. She looked at him in anguish and then it all tumbled out. Everything. Her father's loud absence from her life, Garret's fall, Woody's pursuit of her for a few years and - hardest to admit - her real feelings about him. And Woody's ultimate rejection of her. It seemed like her world was just unraveling and she didn't spare him any of the details for once.
Stiles listened patiently, more than surprised that she was not only in love but that she had let herself be vulnerable to someone. To more than one someone, albeit in different ways. And that in every relationship where she had done that, everything was about as screwed up as it could get.
She started to get antsy, that crazy fidgeting that always signaled she would be leaving the office at least, if not Boston as well. He didn't know what to say. All his training failed him, the years of classes and degrees and the sympathy he had for her and he ruefully smiled. I'm worthless as a shrink, he thought. I'm too invested in this and I don't have a single word of comfort. He cleared his throat. She was staring at him expectantly, as if he had some magic formula to cure all this pain. But he didn't. In fact, even his advice was useless. "In order to have some semblance of normal in your life, you're going to have to resolve all of these issues within yourself, Jordan. I just don't know how you can do that right now…Quite frankly, I'm surprised you're still in Boston," he said at last, watching her for any sign that she wasn't planning to stay.
She looked at him, hurt and confused and maybe betrayed. "Well, the weather today kinda' canceled my travel plans," she said wryly. "So where should I start?"
He shook his head again. He was so dumbfounded. This time nothing had been about her mother. Nothing.
Garret let the phone ring and ring. He'd had about a dozen messages last night from Bug, from Nigel, from Lily….Even one from Renee. He'd almost been expecting them to all show up on his doorstep. He'd gotten home from the hospital - not that he'd really done Woody any bit of good - and poured himself a drink, putting some blues on the turntable. He truly understood jazz, especially now. He'd just sat in the dark, wishing that it had all been a bad dream. The past really had come back to bite him in the ass, so to speak, and now he was out of a job.
But it hadn't been just a job….It was his life. In a nutshell. The morgue, the people….as macabre as it may have seemed, everything that he cared about, everyone that he cared about, was tied to the morgue. To see them all standing there as he'd stood in the elevator, the puzzlement in their eyes, the hurt….It was like he'd disappointed his children or something.
Jordan's voice came over the machine. "Garret, it's me...Could you please, please check on Woody. He has another surgery scheduled and I, uh, I...Oops, gotta' go!" she'd poured it out and hung up before he could even rouse from the chair. He got up, showered and headed off to the hospital. There was nothing else on his agenda for the day anyway.
Jordan sat in her car, her keys in the ignition, her hands on the steering wheel. Going nowhere. Make a list, Stiles had finally said. Tackle one thing - the good, the bad, the ugly of it - at a time. What was it she needed to resolve?
Well, there was the thing with Garret. She just couldn't believe he'd done it. A cover-up. That just was not the Garret Macy she knew. If she didn't clear him or at least convince herself he was still worth trusting, work would never be bearable again. How could she work for another boss? No one else understood and respected her work ethic like Garret. Their friendship had transcended the boundaries that should have been in place between an employer and an employee. God only knew how many times he'd covered her ass, even during his romantic fling with the DA Renee Walcott. He'd gone to bat for her more, stood up for her more, praised her skills as a medical examiner more, and gotten her out of hot water more than any other boss could have, or would have. She should have been fired years ago. She really owed him a lot.
And, oh yeah….how about the resolution of her mother's murder that had been the driving force in her life for how many years and had ruined her chances with Woody? She'd been going over the clues, the evidence….Practically her whole life she had been caught in a cardboard box of worthless leads and meaningless information that led to….nothing. An estranged relationship with her father. A bitter thorn that made anything more than stilted conversation impossible. Nothing. A half-brother who'd jumped from almost the top of a construction site for a high-rise. Whose body had never been found. Nothing. A relationship with her grandmother that was far from normal, when they were speaking at all. Nothing. It had all led to nothing. And now that she'd had something worthy of the focused attention she lavished on that damn box, she'd ruined it out of - what? Fear?
Ah, Woody - the fact that she loved Woody and really needed him, even just to talk to him now in the midst of her hell, and - he didn't want to see her. The first time she was willing to trust that feeling called "love", and look what had happened.
Everyone had failed her. Or…..maybe she had failed them?