AN: Wow, I've never had so many comments in such a short amount of time! Hehe, maybe I should write all of my stories one chapter at a time :3 Thank you to spikes-storm, Susan Rose Potter, Keridwen89, and Orlando-crazy! You make the time I spend on this worth it! --Gives each of you a cookie—

OK, this chapter is establishing feelings for some of the characters on Jordan's situation (esp. Max).

More notes at the bottom:

Burning on

Max entered her recovery room, his coat shimmering with raindrops. It was the evening of the third day since the accident. The only sign of consciousness that Jordan had shown was her right eye fluttering in dream. She seemed trapped with exhaustion beyond his comprehension. He had never before seen his daughter look so weak. Her machines beeped and her breathing tubes functioned proving that there was life in her yet, but Max thought this is not my daughter.

He looked at the flowers and teddy bears brought by her friends. They littered the table next to the window a bright flash of colour in an otherwise dreary space. Her grey walled room was lit by a fluorescent bulb behind her metal bed, to Max it did not seem like a recovery room at all, because it was dark and cold.

He approached the chair next to the bed, an uncomfortable wooden thing that Woody had kept warm for three days. Max took his own, slightly plusher seat, next to it. He shook Woody awake.

"What?" He questioned sleepily.

"Why don't you go home, Woody? Nothing is getting done here," suggested Max in a fatherly tone.

"No, sir," he replied respectfully, wiping sleep from his eyes, "I can't do that."

"Why not? I promise to call you if there is any change in her condition."

"Because, Max. It's my fault she's here," he admitted guiltily. He had told the story, while waiting for her to get out of emergency surgery, of how they were on their way to the same case and their cars had collided but the story was not enough for Woody. "If it weren't me who did this to her, I would be out looking for who did. The only thing I can do for her now is to stay next to her."

Max nodded, there was no use arguing with him because he was as stubborn as Jordan. Little did Woody know, however, was that Max knew how the entire situation came about, and he blamed Garret Macy.

--- --- ---

"Max, I want to talk to you about Jordan," Garret said, summoning Max into his office at the morgue. Garret told him to meet in his office at the morgue. Max agreed with the meeting because Garret had told him he knew why the accident had happened. He only wondered why he did not inform the police.

"I thought you should hear this from me before I tell anybody else," he said. "Have a seat."

Max had never seen Garret like this. He was distressing, of course, a good friend and co-worker had just been in a terrible situation, but there was more to it than just that. He was nervous, slightly jittery, he knew something that he did not want to tell Max but knew that Max had to hear what it was.

He took a deep shuddering breath before beginning, "Max, I know Woody blames himself for the accident, but you have to understand that it's not his fault," Garret admitted, "It's my fault she's in the hospital." Water enlisted his eyes for a moment but he blinked them back.

"What do you mean Macy?" Max asked. "It was an accident wasn't it?" He could feel confused rage coming to the front.

Garret took a deep breath as Max stood weakly, "I mean I sent her out on that call knowing that she was tired from working a double shift. Max, I didn't know what else to do. I had nobody to go out there and she's the best ME I have. I'm sorry, I should have thought—"

"You're damn right you should have thought!" Max erupted. "My daughter is in pain, Macy! It's not like she was on some harebrained mission she puts herself on and she got herself in trouble or something, no, she could be healed if this were so damn simple. You let her…" Max found it hard finishing a sentence. "I can't believe…" This was worse than finding a stranger had done her in purposefully and locking him up because Garret, her friend, had hurt her unintentionally. This was hard because they were so close. Shaking his head, he continued with a vindictive calmness, "Do you know what the doctors told me?" He did not wait for an answer from the coroner, "they told me that she will never be the same. She will never look the same, she will never breathe the same, and she may never even walk the same. She may be in pain for the rest of her life and she might have to have cosmetic surgery in order to look even remotely like she did before the accident."

There was a long awkward pause, tension building in the room like steam in a sauna.

Max added, spitting with malice, "This isn't like TV, Macy, where the character is healed in the same episode. She will never be the same again. She will never think of herself the same again. Remind me to send you a gift basket thanking you for that!" He opened the office door and slammed it shut, eliciting looks from the medical examiners and assistants in the hall.

Garret sat at his desk, deep in thought while Max stormed down the hallway to the elevator, back to the hospital to watch his daughter's recovery.

--- --- ---

Anger still bubbled at his throat. Macy could have killed her; he had never felt so alone in the world.

Woody looked to Max, "What did Garret have to say?"

"Nothing," Max said. He did not know why he would not tell Woody. Perhaps he wanted them both to feel responsible for the accident.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, not really," he lied. He had hardly eaten in three days. He felt in between everything; just waiting for Jordan to wake up. The normally jovial look on Max's face had evaporated the moment Woody had told him about the accident replaced by a drawn, tired look that made him feel old. Nothing would be as important as the moment when he saw her eyes open.

"I'm going to go get some subs, what do you want?" Woody asked, not taking no for an answer.

Max sighed, "Yeah, just get me whatever; something spicy."

Woody smiled for a moment; he was thinking the same thing. He thought that perhaps the heartburn he received as an aftermath would match the ache that he was really feeling.

AN: OK, you know I like to torture my readers with things they don't really expect, well… As you already know, Jordan doesn't die in this fic. I can't make her die, I made her die in one of my recent fics! However, she does go through some angst involving her father and Woody… so stay tuned, and keep those reviews coming… They make me all warm and fuzzy in my crypt of a basement!