Disclaimer: Because I forgot it in chapter one.

I've asked Santa to bring me Crossing Jordan for Christmas, but he keeps telling me that it all belongs to Tim Kring and that he won't share. So I don't own anything connected with JC, except a few shares of GE stock. And I guess that doesn't count.

Chapter Two

It's for the Best

For a month, Jordan couldn't get a word out of Woody. The first week, she had left him alone…to give him time to cool off. Hopefully realize what a mistake he had made…that he had thrown away his promising career as a policeman in one hasty, temper-filled moment. Hopefully, that time would allow him to regret his actions, see the error of his ways…make him more receptive to the contact she had made for him at Massachusetts technologies.

Let him stew in his own juices for a week, she had thought, and then maybe his temper won't be quite so bad. Maybe he'll at least listen to me.

The next week, she left three messages on his apartment's phone. He didn't return her calls.

The week after, she filled his cell phone's voice mail up. Either he wasn't checking his messages, or he was still ignoring her.

Finally, she tried e-mail. Every day. For a solid week. Her response request told her that they were never opened.

So swallowing down her trepidation and building up her courage, Jordan did what she really didn't want to do. After work, she went home, showered, changed clothes, and drove over to his apartment. The drive there seemed far too fast for her faltering bravery. She had never feared Woody. But the part of her that still loved him was deathly afraid of what his rejection could do to her one more time.

And frankly, Jordan had no desire to try to mend her broken heart again. It hadn't healed from the time Woody kicked her out of his hospital room. Then he broke it for a second time over Riggs…although at the time she had been too angry to realize it. The possibility that this visit could make her vulnerable to him once more…and then have to spend the next several months picking up the pieces of her heart left her nerves in shambles. She took a deep breath as she pulled into the parking lot of his building.

As she went through the doors, she was suddenly glad she remembered she had a six-pack of long-necks chilling in the refrigerator at home. In the elevator she said a Hail Mary just for luck.

But as she raised her hand to knock on his door, she was startled to realize that hand was shaking. She was even more shocked when she became aware that her whole body was shaking. Jordan took another deep breath, and made her hand knock on his door.

The wait seemed endless, but finally, the door opened, and there he was…

Looking much better than she expected. "Woody…" she said, her voice trailing off as she realized he was dressed to the teeth…good suit. Good, expensive suit. New hair cut. Nice watch. Nicer ring. He didn't look at thing like she had expected. The unshaven, unbathed, depressed human being she anticipating encountering. Not at all. This Woody looked…well…incredible. And had a spring to his step and a gleam in his eyes.

Suddenly, Jordan felt dowdy. She never had felt that way before around Woody. Even on their worst days, when he looked at her, she had always felt like he was admiring her hair, her eyes….her figure. Desiring her in some way.

This Woody was looking at her like she was lower than something on the bottom of his Italian-made shoes. She swallowed hard. "May I come in for a minute?"

"Jordan," Woody replied, adjusting his shirt cuffs under the sleeve of his expensively tailored suit, "I'm just about to leave for the evening…."

"Ummm…I know…well…I mean, I assumed from the way you're dressed…"

"Can it wait?"

"It won't take but a minute….please…"

Damn…her 'please' has always been my undoing…Woody thought, stifling the desire to roll his eyes, pull her into his apartment, and hold her. She looked thinner and the dark circles hugging her eyes was worrisome. No doubt she had been concerned about him, given she had witnessed his arrest and the circumstances surrounding it. "Okay," he replied, sighing and giving the impression she was only annoying him. "But it will have to be quick, Cavanaugh." He held the door open a little wider and she slid in past him. "What is it?"

"I …I…I've been trying to get in touch with you…"

"I know."

The tone in his voice surprised her. It was impatient, annoyed…condescending. Maybe he had learned nothing from his termination. But she hadn't come all this way for nothing. And she'd be damned if he would cause her to cower in fear. Clearing her throat and her mind, she continued, figuring it was better just to cut to the chase. "I have some friends at Massachusetts Technologies. They're looking for someone to replace their head of security…."

"And you thought I'd be interested in the job?" His voice held a note of incredulousness that Jordan had never heard before…bordering on disbelief.

"Well…I mean, you were…ummm…."

"Fired?"

Jordan nodded, not sure exactly how to take his attitude. On one hand, she was glad he was adjusting so….well….but on the other hand, Woody had never seemed more un-Woody in his whole life…even after the shooting. He was beyond arrogant. He was …condescending and supercilious.

"No thank you, Jordan. I'm fine. Believe me. I don't need your job with Massachusetts Technologies. And I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help that is remotely even associated with the Boston Police Department. That includes you and any of your morgue monkeys. And I need you to leave now. I need to go."

"But…Woody…"

"I mean it." He crossed the small space between them to cross his arms and stand nearly defiantly in front of her. "I don't need them…and I don't need you. So take your good deeds and your damn concern and waltz yourself right out of my door. I didn't need you when I was a detective and I sure as hell don't need you now."

His words hit her as hard as his right hook had hit the uniformed officer he had decked weeks ago. And she felt as mangled and bruised. She took another deep breath and turned her back to him to give herself a minute to regroup.

But she didn't hide the pain in her eyes quickly enough for Woody not to notice. He groaned inwardly at the fact he had hurt her yet again…even if this time it was for her own good. She needed to stay away from him while he was on this assignment. And then later…if he had time before he flew out to Wisconsin….he would try to explain the entire situation to her himself…ask her to try to understand and in someway forgive him…for everything.

Then he'd leave. He had caused her enough hurt for a lifetime.

"Please leave, Jordan."

She turned back to him, not sure what to say or do…other than make sure that he knew she was open to being there for him…that if he changed his mind, she still would be glad to reach out and help him in whatever way she could. "Fine. I will…since you've got somewhere to be…but if you ever change your mind…."

"What makes you think I would ever change my mind, Jordan? The fact that one day I'll wake up and say, 'Damn….I miss that woman I spent four years out of my life chasing…only to have her tell me she loves me out of a guilty conscience'?"

"It wasn't a guilty conscious…"

"Only to find out a few weeks after that, she's flown to Vegas to be with Danny McCoy?"

"You said it was over… and you sure as hell moved on…with people I knew…"

"And then to shack up with some Aussie-tabloid-reporter-from-hell who not only nearly got me killed, but came damn close to getting you hurt, too…put a tracer on your phone…"

"Woody…" The lump in Jordan's throat was growing larger by the minute. He was painting her to be something she wasn't…

"Your taste in men leaves something to be desired, Jordan."

"Evidently. Especially when I told you I loved you."

Woody inwardly winced at her words….hoping they were spoken in retaliation against the hurt he was causing her….that deep down inside, she really didn't mean them. But still…Walcott and the captain had made it clear that all ties needed to be broken with his previous friends so that nothing in this assignment would be jeopardized. That included Jordan. Taking a deep breath, Woody pushed on. "Do you really think that I felt the same way? I mean….look at us, Jordan. Look at you. Your impossibly stubborn…hardheaded….too damn independent for your good or anyone else's….you vacillate between being an icicle and being a tease…you're too thin… .what man would want to be with a woman like you? Why do you think that Danny and JD eventually ran for the hills…Hell, I didn't really want you, all I wanted was a quick, hot fling…"

His voice trailed off as he realized she was no longer listening, she was making for his apartment door as quickly as she could, a sheen of tears in her eyes. "That's right," he called as a parting shot. "Run. That's what you do best. You say you want the truth, but when it slaps you in the face, all you can do is run…."

His reply was a slamming door.

Woody took a deep breath and sat down on his couch for a minute, fighting his urge to go after her and explain…to make things right between them. Then, swallowing his regret, he stood and finished getting ready for work, praying to God he never had to speak that way to her again.

What man would want to be with a woman like you? Jordan stopped counting the times that remark of Woody's ran through her mind. And that thought was quickly followed with his parting shot, Hell, I didn't really want you, all I wanted was a quick, hot fling. Both statements cut her to the quick, breaking her already broken heart just a little bit more each time.

So that's all I ever was to him? No wonder he told me to get out of his hospital room after I told him that I loved him…he didn't love me…he never did…he just wanted to have sex with me…just like any other man in my life…I was a fool to think Woody Hoyt was different…that maybe, just maybe he was the one. The one man I could give my heart and my body to and know that he wouldn't hurt me…

So maybe this is for the best…maybe it's better that I found out now…after he's left the police department and I don't have to look him in the face nearly everyday. I can get over him and move on…or at least try.

But Jordan was finding out the hard way that trying to forget Woody and actually doing that were two completely different things. She was discovering that forgetting the man you loved and still held your heart despite everything was a long and difficult process. As long as she could stay busy and keep her mind occupied, all was well. So, in keeping with her old behavior, she began to work longer hours, more days…requesting a heavier caseload.

Garret knew what was up and tried to accommodate her as much as he could…but he worried about her. They all did. However, Jordan seemed to be managing well.

Until she got home…and was by herself…and tried to sleep. Then she was haunted by a pair of blue eyes and his last cutting words to her…She would be jolted out of her dreams, and not be able to sleep again. I have been such a fool… she thought. And her mind agreed.

But her heart was holding out that somewhere down the line, maybe there was hope.

That quickly disappeared a few weeks later when Nigel walked into her office. One look at his face told her that whatever he had to say wasn't good. He looked as if he had seen a ghost…and he didn't knock before he entered. He just walked into her office and closed the door. "Jordan," he began softly. "Do you have a minute?"

"For you, Nige…all day," she smiled at him, hoping that teasing him a little would bring him back to normal.

It didn't work.

"Have you kept up with Woodrow any since he was terminated from the force?"

Jordan shook her head. She didn't like lying to Nigel, but she wanted to keep what Woody had told her to herself for a while…then she'd share it with Nigel….just like she did nearly everything else. "No…not really. Even the inter-office gossip grapevine has pretty much clammed up on him and moved onto bigger and better things…"

Nigel swallowed hard and began to pace. "I'm afraid it might open up on him again," he said.

"What do you mean?"

He stopped pacing and stood in front of her desk where she was sitting. "You know I get out a bit from time to time…"

Jordan nodded. "And?"

"Last night, a few of my mates wanted to go to bar on the south side of Boston…"

"Not the best section of town, Nige. You know that."

He nodded. "But I figured, 'What the hell…what could happen if we just go down there and have a few beers'? So we go the Old Irish Rose…"

"The Old Irish Rose? Nigel….the Irish mob…what's left of them…operate out of there…you know that."

"I know…" Nigel resumed pacing. "But I figured a couple of beers wouldn't hurt anyone…"

"So did they? I mean, you look in one piece…"

"Oh, I'm fine. But once I get inside, guess who I find out now is managing that place for the mob now?" Nigel, asked, stopping once more in front of her desk.

"How should I know?" Jordan was deathly afraid of what his answer was going to be.

And Nigel knew this. Nodding, he replied, "Woodrow."