"Dude," Woody said, still not moving from the position he was supporting Jordan in. "Is this really nessecary? I mean, what's this going to accomplish other than landing yourself in a four by four cell with a man named Shirley?"
Ben sneered. "Well detective," he growled. "Family is everything and I need to do justice for my brother."
"And holding an ME and a homicide detective hostage is going to accomplish justice how?" Woody pondered aloud.
Ben looked away from Woody's face and turned his back to them, staring at the white wall facing him. "It just will ok? It just will." Woody noticed he was saying it more to himself than he was either him or Jordan. He looked down to her, her tiny frame trembling under his arm. Her silence was starting to scare him.
"Jo you ok?" he asked soothingly.
Jordan met his gaze by tilting her head upwards and nodded. "Just tired. And in desperate need of coffee."
Woody smiled appreciativly at her humor. "Ben can I go get us some coffee?" Woody asked, turning his attention back to the man opposite them.
He turned back around to face them, his hideous features accented in the dim light. Jordan took notice of the expression on his face. It looked almost like one of defeat and couldn't help but take a little pride in that. "Only if we all go together," he said with a raise of his eyebrows.
Jordan and Woody exchanged a look before Jordan pulled away and got up, leading the way to the break room and sitting down in the first chair she saw. She was really beginning to frighten Woody. She was quiet, unmouthy, listened to everything Ben told her to do, and didn't seem to have the strength to stand for longer than a minute.
Ben took a seat next to her, leaving Woody to get the coffee. "How do you guys want it?" he asked, not daring to turn his back on them.
"Two creams, one sugar," Ben answered immediatly.
"Black. No sugar," Jordan replied.
Woody gave her a questioning look but prepared her coffee the way she asked. "Since when do you drink your coffee black?" he asked with a smile as he turned and handed them their freshly brewed cups. He sat down in the chair on the other side of Jordan, studying her intently and trying to see what was wrong.
She was silent for a long moment and Woody wondered if she had heard him. "Jo?" he asked cautiously.
"Since the night you were shot," she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the black liquid in her mug. She swirled it around in her hands, the warmth emmenating off the glass a comfort from the cold of the crypt.
Woody wasn't sure how to reply. So he settled for a simple "Oh."
Jordan eyes maintained locked with her coffee and Woody was unsure of how to console her. She looked so uncharacteristiclly broken, so fragile. Woody continued to stare at her, trying to find some sort of the old head-strong Jordan he knew and loved.
The three of them finished their coffee in silence, not one of them speaking a word. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, more of a relaxed, calm silence; the complete opposite of what you would expect in a hostage situation.
"I think it's time we went back to the crypt," Ben finally said.
Woody looked over to Jordan in the expectation that she would protest, but she did not. It was then that he noticed her chattering jaw and goosebump clad arms. He reached his hand down to her leg and took hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers in a comforting way. But it seemed like she hadn't even noticed.
"Actually I think it's best if we stay in here," Woody interjected.
"Excuse me?" he asked threateningly.
Woody lowered his voice and leaned arcoss the table to talk. "Look at her," he said, motioning to Jordan who still hadn't moved. "There's something seriously wrong with her. She's never this quiet! And she's freezing cold," Woody said, the iciness of her fingers resting on the back of his hand giving him shivers. "The crypt has to be kept cold and that's the last place she needs to be right now. I'm begging you, just let her go!"
Woody lent back against his chair and Jordan seemed to have snapped out of her reverie, or she was at least more attentive. For a second, Woody thought that Ben had reasoned and was going to let them go, but then he pulled out his gun and pointed it into Jordan's face.
"Hey hey hey!" Woody shouted. The fear in Jordan's eyes was back. "Put it away man!"
"And just where do you suggest I put it? Her head?" He shouted back, his voice like a volcanic eruption.
"Put it where the sun don't shine dude! I don't really care! Just put it away!" Woody yelled back.
Ben clenched his jaw in anger before standing up and running out of the room and down the hall to the crypt. Woody and Jordan got up and ran after him, stopping and leaning against the frame to watch him.
He stood in the middle of the room, gun turned to himself, staring into Jordan's dark pools of eyes. She stared back unblinkingly. "This is the final resting place for everyone else. Why not save you the trip and make it mine," Ben said.
There was a deafening bang as he pulled the trigger, followed by a loud, "NO!" from both Woody and Jordan. Blood went everywhere, spraying the walls, the floor, and parts of Woody and Jordan. When the two reopened their clamped shut eyes, Ben Nashal lay dead on the floor, the gun still laying limply in his hand, blood pooling around his head.
XXXXXXXXXXJordan awoke with a splitting headache and in an unfamiliar bed. She sat up and looked around, her heart reacing inside her chest. As things swam in and out of focus, realisation hit her. It was Woody's room. Partial bits of the previous day sat in clumps in her brain, nothing coming back fully.
"She's in shock Woody," Garret had told Woody as he stared into Jordan's distant eyes. "She needs to sleep. And I don't want her alone."
Woody could take a hint. "Don't worry Dr M. She can spend the night at my place. I'll ask her tomorrow if she wants to go to work but you know her; I' sure she'll be in. Either way I'll call you," Woody had said softly, watching Jordan the whole time sitting on the back of the ambulance being checked out.
"Alright Hoyt," Garret had replied. "Take care of her."
Woody gently creeked the door open and surveyed his room. Through the darkness he could see Jordan sitting up in his bed, her breathing ragged and heavy. He hit the light switch and watched as she flinched from the sudden change of dark to light.
"Hey your awake," he said softly. His soothing voice a welcome to her aching head.
"Umm ... ya. I guess I am," she replied, looking around the room. When her eyes caught sight of what she was wearing, she looked down to her shirt. All she was wearing was a siple blue camisole, a hell of a lot less than what she was wearing when she last remembered.
"We didn't ... you know," she asked, giving him a worried smile.
Woody looked at her for a second, a confused expression on his face. Then he caught on. "No! No! I mean ... no. Jordan. No!" he said, finding it extremely hard to prevent a laugh.
Jordan heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. Well I mean ... not good. Good that ... ahk! It's just good because I don't really remember a lot about last night." she said with an appologetic smile.
He grinned widely back. "It's fine Jordan. Really. Do you remember Ben?"
Her face fell, an instant indication to Woody that she did. "Sorry."
She looked up into his face, her eyes shining, not with tears, but with an emotion Woody hadn't seen since the night he was shot as he was being wheeled into surgery. It was the raw, open emotion of love. "Thanks for taking care of me."
Woody was speechless. "No problem," he said when he finally found his tongue. He had been so taken aback by the sudden realization that he almost forgot what he had done to her, and the concequences he was about to face the next time he saw Lily. Damn had she been angry.
"Why did you choose Garret, Jordan?" he asked suddenly. Her features remained expressionless.
"Woody ..." she stalled.
"Just answer the question."
She took a deep breath before talking. "Because I was afraid you would say no."
"That I would say no? That I would say no to what?" he asked, awe-struck.
"That if I chose you you would tell me that you didn't want to come up. I mean, the last time I told you what I wanted you kicked me out of your life! I couldn't face that kind of rejection again," she said, her eyes shining this time with tears.
Woody sat down on the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. "Jordan ..."
She didn't say anything but hung her head low on her chest, jaw quivering.
"Jordan look at me."
She raised her head and stared into his eyes, finding it impossible to look away.
"Never again am I going to turn you away," he said, scooching closer to her and wrapping her in his arms. She didn't pull away but allowed herself to be swept up into his arms, his fingers coddling her head, whispering in her ear that everything would be fine, that never again would she feel that way.
But one question remained in Jordan's mind. 'Was he telling the truth?'