Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, show, etc. I love the job the writers do, but I have questions I need to answer at least for myself grin>. I will try to update soon.

Chapter 2 - Escape

It was really a miracle that I'd escaped that fiery crash. I knew it now. It was only the sheer determination I'd had to get out of my frenzied life that enabled me to think clearly and take action. Gaining control of the situation had been dangerous, yes. Complicated and difficult. But I guess I was just at a place in my life that made the possibilities worth fighting for. And I was so furious with Woody. It seems to me that anger can spur you on to a lot of seemingly impossible feats.

I hadn't been thinking clearly when I found myself in the middle of a heated telephone argument with my ex and promised to meet him, to settle on a property we had purchased together that had, after endless months on the market, finally sold. I didn't want to see him, to rekindle the grand memories he brought up - which, of course, were nil. I just wanted it over. I thought if I could finally close that chapter of my life, I could fully concentrate on the one at hand…

I wanted everything to be over between Jordan and Woody. I figured it was just a matter of time. Woody was not a doormat, after all. It would just be a matter of time, and I hoped that it was sooner rather than later. I saw the way they worked together, heard the respect and admiration for her work, her skills, her sleuthing in his voice. So I determined to show him that I could be just as uh…pushy. Determined, really. She was damn good at her job.

Anyway, because we'd been avoiding each other since the passionate outburst of Jordan's name during our sole sexual encounter, I hadn't bothered to call him to tell him I was going out of town. I didn't think it was any of his business, not then. But I often wondered how he'd reacted when he heard about the plane crash. I wanted to call him, to see if he was grieving or mourning for me at all, to let him know I was alright, that I wanted us to be together. All those thoughts had twirled in my head as the parachute drifted along over fields and trees that were in the middle of nowhere. I didn't remember landing at all. I didn't remember anything for a while…

Amnesia. A part of your mind shuts down, can't remember. That was how I'd ended up here. At this country hospital of sorts - a retreat for some maybe, but not for me. The doctors had said that I would remember soon enough. I guess that I'd been found without the parachute, far removed from the sight and ragged and beat-up looking. Nobody associated me with the plane. Computer glitches had prevented them from matching my face to a name. The power went out all the time in this god-forsaken country town, miles from civilization I guessed. But maybe it was safer that way.

It had taken a long time for my memory to come back. And when it had, I didn't like the memories. All the years I had thought I was moving along in the right direction, striving for perfection only to find that it somehow eluded me when it came to things of great importance. I remembered my name, my profession, my family, my friends. And I remembered him. That memory came bitterly, the result of a pregnancy test that flooded me with hope and sadness and resentment all at once.

I'd guessed from the news reports that not all of the bodies were even recoverable. I saw Woody briefly in the background during a news flash a month after the incident, when they were talking about the black box and the implication and speculation of what had really happened up there. He looked handsome, busy. I felt my heart lurch a little.

I couldn't understand how he could actually prefer her over me. At work, I had started to be pushy, striving to solve puzzles and earn admiration. That's when I knew I had fallen for him…Something I hadn't planned on, because of the whole "ex" thing. But when things in that department weren't as forthcoming as I'd wanted, I'd tried my hand at what I'd always had. The gift of beauty and the power of flirtation had landed him at my door - whether it was at the apartment or at the morgue - at least on Sunday nights. Nights he'd previously spent with Jordan. Until she'd blown him off once or twice and he'd called me. It dawned on me that I had been nothing more than a replacement.

So here I was, in the middle of nowhere, where people still didn't really know who I was. Because I really didn't know anymore either. I could remake myself entirely if I chose. For better or for worse. And I did choose, but for better or worse is still a matter of opinion I suppose. And the first order of business was to make myself even more invisible, so that I could torment Jordan Cavanaugh the way she'd tormented me - except that, unlike her, I would be unseen, unknown, unwelcome.

Maybe it was the result of some lasting head trauma from when I'd jumped from the plane. Or maybe I just had that much hatred bottled up inside me. I was, after all, far removed from my loved ones and only a vague memory, perhaps - especially to those in Boston. But he was in Boston.. Where I wanted to be. Back in the morgue, back with my friends. Back with him. I couldn't show my face there - not yet. But in the meantime I, Devon McGuire, would take back all the pride I had lost and right all the wrongs that had been done to me by one Doctor Jordan Marie Cavanaugh...