AN: Wow, it's been a while since I could finish this chapter! I started it last week but this is honestly the first opportunity I've had to get on the computer and finish it up. Work is a demon, taking my soul along for a ride in hell. I work 10 hr shifts 1-11pm or 3pm-1am and then I sleep… work and sleep, sleep and work until me 3 blessed days off yay! I had to hurry home last night because I forgot to ask my brother to tape CJ 8 so I could watch it when I got home at 11:30, instead I had to watch the last half hr… but it just wasn't the same… --tear—

Anyway, thanks for all the nice reviews you guys, you make writing this story worth it, after all, if I received no reviews I probably wouldn't come back to it week after week (working on bits here and there at work lol) I'm just supremely sorry that the chapters are so far inbetween.

Special thanks to KittyDoggyLover, Orlando-Crazy and Kerdiwen89 for reviewing chapter 9!

Oh and Keridwen, I added a little something at the end because of what you can't wait for lol, though you may be supremely disappointed that it's ridden with angst.

Every Heart You Break

"Sometimes, no wait, scratch that. Most of the time, I don't understand her," Woody admitted over a glass of scotch the next evening.

Max sighed wordlessly, putting the bottle back in the cupboard and joining Woody at the kitchen table. "She has been difficult, that one, but maybe, you shouldn't try to understand. If you were to go in depth about Jordan, I think that you would find she is more complicated than you are willing to deal with. Sometimes I think I get my daughter, but then she'll do something else to confuse the hell out of you."

Woody shrugged, "You're right about that."

They each took another sip of scotch. Max leaned back in his chair, "So tell me something, why was yesterday the first time you've visited her for the past week?"

Woody knew the question was coming, but the fact still had not prepared an answer. He bowed his head shamefully looking up to Max with blue puppy eyes. Sighing he shook his head, "I don't have an answer to that. I guess I thought couldn't handle it. I guess I was a little intimidated. But aren't we all when it comes to Jordan?" He raised his glass in a mock toast.

"So you were acting just like she would," Max respectfully returned though for a different reason. "But I know what you mean."

There was a short silence between the two generations. Max sometimes felt as if Woody could almost have been his son. He had always wanted a son. After he had forced himself to send James away, he felt cheated out of the experience. If only Emily had not been so ill, maybe he would have had a whole family. He would have to settle for the next best thing, a son in law; something he was not so sure would ever happen if Jordan kept on the way she did.

The silence was comfortable but Woody had burning issues he had come to discuss with Max. He said, "Not that it's really any of my business. But I think that she needs help." Max opened his mouth to retaliate and tell the young detective that to convince Jordan to do anything was completely insane; instead, he waited for his explanation. Woody told him the events from the time he had arrived until he had left. "When I got there she looked pretty close to tears. She might not want help, but she obviously needs it. She's going to get herself killed accidentally."

Max sighed, he knew he was right but there was no way, short of kidnapping her, that he could get her to stay with him until she recovered. "Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

"Trust me; I wanted to, but my whole, 'ignoring Jordan through work' thing caught up with me. I closed two cases last night after talking to her and this is the first opportunity I've had to get out of the office." It sure looked like he was telling the truth. His drooping eyes glazed over with lack of sleep. The stress lines on his face told the rest of the story.

"Well, I'll talk to her again about what we've discussed but I can't promise you anything. Her moving in here won't change her attitude; I can tell you right now, she'll just feel helpless and dependant."

Woody polished off the scotch in his glass and thanked Max. He prepared to return home and catch some restless sleep but Max stopped him saying, "There's one thing I can't help. I can't do anything about your relationship with her."

Woody averted his eyes, staring at a spot on the floor, "I know. But there's nothing I can do about it either. She's aware of how I feel and she knows that I'd do anything for her."

"Your actions this week didn't prove that. I suggest you apologize and hope for the best," Max advised. "That's all you can do."

Woody nodded morosely and disappeared into the darkness, Max silently shut the door behind him thinking he would still make a great son in law.

--- --- ---

"What are you doing here, Jordan?"

"Nothing, just looking through my cases, seeing if they were—"

"I gave them to Bug they're fine. In fact, never have your cases been done more by the book."

Jordan gave him a look of mock loathing, continuing to flip through the papers on her desk. It felt good to be back in the office, normal even. Two days ago, she was in hospital and now she was at her desk looking over reports. She never thought she would enjoy paperwork more.

"Go home," said Garret.

"No," she said.

"Do I have to ban you from this office? You're not well enough to be working, Jordan!" he exclaimed. He closed his eyes and unclenched his jaw repeating a mantra Lily had taught him silently to himself in order to keep his temper in check. "I'm not making a suggestion. It's an order."

Jordan looked up to him, eyebrow raised. She was a mess and Garret hated forcing her to do things that she didn't want to do but to work in her condition would have been suicide and he wasn't about to assist her death.

"I'll give you a ride," he said.

Reluctantly she stood and followed him out of the office. There were times when she would have stood her ground to him, when she would have fought over whether or not she felt well enough to be at work. That period was gone now though. She felt she had left her spirit in that van when it had crashed. Sometimes, like today and her idea of going to work to catch up on paperwork before returning full time, she felt it. The feeling lingered inside like a small flame about to drown in wax but before long, the other emotions, the new ones that had cropped up and overtook her; she had no other choice but to follow him out of the office. Those times she felt like sitting in a full bathtub and accidentally dropping her useless hair dryer into the water with her.