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DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.
NOTES: see part one
Part Five: Error
Despite Garret's protests, Jordan was back at work ten days after the doctor released her. Only Macy and her closest friends – Lily, Bug and Nigel – knew the truth behind her absence. From everyone else she accepted with outward good humor the jokes and gibes about how uncoordinated she must have been to fall and hit her head on a kitchen counter. As much as it hurt to chuckle and agree that she really could be a klutz at times, Jordan knew she couldn't have dealt with the inevitable sympathy that would have washed over her.
She even chafed at the attention her friends showed her, though they avoided talking to her about her loss, not wanting to keep the wound open. Lily had a lot of lunches with the M.E. No doubt making sure I don't waste away. Garret gave her only the most routine of cases, and there were days he all but escorted her to her car at the end of the day. A time or two he'd threatened to drive her home. Nigel and Bug were a little better, but only a little. Too many of their conversations about some case or other dried up when she walked into a room. After six weeks, she began to beg Dr. Macy for more challenges.
Garret did send her out on more calls and tried to stop hovering over her so much. The one person he would not let near her, however, was Woody. The detective had shown a great deal of solicitousness after Jordan's hospitalization, dropping in at the morgue, calling, trying to find out exactly what had happened with her. He'd been given the same story fed to those outside the close circle. When she'd returned, he'd made several attempts to see her, but those had been thwarted. While her friends knew that at some point Jordan and Woody would have to face each other and determine what, if anything, remained between them, none of them were willing to let that happen until she healed, physically and emotionally.
Still, on a blistering, muggy August morning, Jordan found herself crouched next to a body in the middle of a street with Woody peering over her shoulder. Jordan had been the only available M.E. and she'd taken the case, hoping it might put a further damper on what was rapidly going from slightly charming concern to smothering over protectiveness on Garret's part.
"Do we have an i.d., Detective?" Her voice was flat, neutral.
Woody could hardly know that she spoke to almost everyone that way these days. He shoved down the familiar, happy feeling he'd had at seeing her. "Jin Yeng Chu. He owned the convenience store over there." Jordan followed the direction Woody pointed. Woody looked down, reciting from his notes. "He had a confrontation with one Mi Yeng Chu – his nephew and apparent gang member. Witnesses said they'd had several arguments. After this one the nephew stormed out. A few minutes later a rock was tossed through the front window. The victim came out of the store. A car came down the street and hit him. The driver sped off."
The M.E. studied the scene with coolly appraising eyes.
"We got the rock thrower, by the way. The nephew's little brother – another nephew."
Jordan nodded, but said little. She took the required photos, examined the body in situ as much as possible, her eyes narrowing at one point. "Did any of the witnesses say what color the car was?"
Woody consulted his notes, though he already knew the answer. If she was going to be cold, he could be, too. "Orange. The nephew – the older one – drives a car with a custom paint job. Orange."
"Well," Jordan glanced up. "I've got what looks like orange paint here. If it's custom, it should be too difficult to match it to the car once you find it."
"Yeah, I'm thinking this is a slam dunk."
She didn't take the bait, didn't admonish him not to jump to conclusions, but to wait for the forensics. Instead she simply nodded. "I'll get him back to the morgue. You should have the report by the end of the day, Detective."
"Thanks. Doctor."
She ignored the pointed nature of his response. Or she never felt it. Woody couldn't tell.
XXXXX
Jordan was finishing up her report on Mr. Chu. It had been about as routine as possible. She was about to sign it when her office phone rang. "Cavanaugh."
"Hey."
Jordan's heart lurched. "Pollack! Wow, surprise, surprise."
"Lily didn't mention I called earlier? You apparently had your hands full."
Jordan chuckled. "Yeah, with some poor hit and run victim's insides. And no, she didn't tell me, but I haven't… hold on." Her office door opened to reveal Lily.
The grief counselor saw Jordan was on the phone and made an apologetic face. Quietly, she said, "Sorry. Um, I meant to tell you that J.D. called earlier."
"Thanks, Lily," Jordan said with a slight smile. After the door closed, she settled back in her chair. "So, Lily just told me you called earlier."
He laughed. "Well, then."
"Yeah." The words were on the tip of her tongue, the words to tell him about their daughter. They strangled anything else she might have said.
"How've you been, Cavanaugh?"
"Good," she lied. "Good. You?"
"Worried."
"Why?"
"You're a bad liar, Jordan. Even on the phone. I called yesterday, too. Got told you'd gone home a bit early, that you're still recovering from your hospital stay."
"Oh, that." Jordan forced a smile into her voice. "It was – Really, just stupid. I – uh – I fell and hit my head. Lost some blood. You know."
"What did I just say?"
"About what?"
"You're a terrible liar. Come on, babe. What's been going on with you?"
She closed her eyes. Her breath came in short gasps. "I – I – Oh, God." She bit back a sob and the words tumbled out with none of the practiced aplomb she'd hoped for. "I had a miscarriage."
He was silent for long enough that she was sure he'd rung off. "How – How far along?"
"Eighteen weeks," she told him, her voice thick with pain.
Another long pause. "Ours?"
"Ours," she confirmed. "That night in the Reef. The last one."
"Are you all right?" She could hear the tightness in his throat and she wished fiercely for a moment that she could have made herself love him. In the space of a hundred and twenty seconds he had learned that not only had she been carrying their child and lost it, but that she'd never told him and his first reaction was not anger, but concern for her.
"I guess."
She heard him take a deep breath. "Were you going to tell me?" The question was an honest one – one he certainly had a right to ask – but there was no accusation in it.
"Yes," she whispered. "After – After she was born."
"A girl? The baby was a girl?"
"Yeah."
"I bet she'd have looked just like you." His breath caught in his throat. "Beautiful."
Jordan chewed on her lip.
"Why did you wait, Cavanaugh? You know I'd have moved back to Boston."
"Or asked me to move down there. Yeah, I know."
"So… why?"
She swallowed. "Because it wouldn't have been fair."
"To you?"
"No." She took another deep breath. "To you. I – I – You deserve someone who – who can feel that – that way. About you. And that someone isn't me. But – I want you – No, I need you to know, I never would have kept her away from you. We'd have worked out something."
"Yeah. Something." Jordan couldn't blame him for sounding stunned.
"Well, now you know what thing's have been like here." Jordan tried to pull the conversation away to firmer ground. "Why did you call in the first place?"
He snorted. "Doesn't seem so important now."
"Tell me." Her voice was soft and pleading.
"I called to thank you."
"I guess I've blown that."
"No. No. I'm – I'm shocked, but I – I do understand."
"So…?"
"You know that man I used to be? The one I told you about? The one I kind of came here to see if I could find again?"
She smiled. "Found him?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
"Like him?"
He chuckled softly. "I really do. And apparently so does our little association of journalists down here. I've earned an award for a piece I did on the treatment of Aboriginals." He paused. "None of them were on meth. None of them microwaved parrots. And none of them found a piece of toast that looked like King Henry the VIII in their toaster. My series shook a few things up."
"Crusader Rabbit," she murmured.
"Indeed. And I owe that to you, Cavanaugh."
She shook her head. "No. You did it."
"But you made me want to do it. You reminded me what it is to put other people first." He hesitated. "I love you, Cavanaugh. And if you ever decide what you're looking for isn't in Boston after all, then you'll have a place here."
"Pollack-"
"Don't say it. I know. I just needed you to know the door was always open."
"Thank you," she murmured.
"Did you – Had you thought of names?"
Jordan swallowed again. "Kathleen Marie. My dad's mom's name."
"I like it," he told her. Silence descended for several long heartbeats. "Take care of yourself, Cavanaugh."
As she replaced the receiver, Jordan couldn't help feeling she ought to pick it right back up and book a ticket to Sydney. She'd been ignoring it all day, but seeing Woody again had upset her. Nothing would ever be the same, and she'd about given up hope that they could even salvage a working relationship. Maybe what I'm looking for isin Boston, but I let it get too far away. She didn't know if Sydney held anything more, but it couldn't possibly hurt as much. And it's not like I'd be running away so much as running to… to someone who wants me, who loves me despite everything, who… who isn't someone I'll ever truly love.
She reached into her desk and pulled out two sheets of photo paper. She stared at the top one for a long time. The captain on the chartered boat had taken it the second night in the Reef. He'd caught Jordan and J.D. as they stood at the railing, watching the sun sinking into the ocean, painting the sky gaudy shades of pink and lavender. She'd been leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. His arms had been wrapped loosely around her. They'd both been smiling. No regrets, he'd said, just good memories. That moment in time, caught by a stealthy photographer, frozen on paper, was cherished. Jordan looked at it and saw what had been missing all her life – ease, trust, security. She knew she'd been perfectly happy at that moment – and so had he. If only she'd been able to believe there would have been more moments like that with him… but she knew the truth.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Across the movie screen in her head, she saw that moment, but it was Woody's arms that held her; Woody's breath that blew softly across her neck; Woody's lips that nuzzled her ear; Woody's voice that murmured suggestions about skinny dipping once the sun set.
And then it struck her. What Paul had said. The reason. For a moment she had found the happiness she'd thought would forever elude her. She'd brought that happiness to someone else. No recriminations, no tears, no fears that somehow she'd screw it all up and hurt someone who meant a lot to her. Paul had been right – it was sudden and revelatory. She had no idea if it was entirely too late for her and Woody, but she knew that if the chance came around again, she would take it.
She barely heard the knock on her door, so lost was she in her thoughts. The tapping grew louder. She caught herself, straightened in her chair and brushed the tears from her eyes. "Come in," she called, her voice only a little shaky. Hastily, she thrust the pictures under the report on her desk.
Woody opened the door.
"Come in, Detective. What can I do for you?"
Woody gave her a tentative smile. "Stop calling me 'Detective,' for starters."
"What would you prefer I call you?" Her voice dripped sarcasm, her mind imagining scorn in his voice.
He flinched as if she'd reached out and slapped him. He looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second head – which might have been better in some ways. "I'm sorry-" he started.
"No, no," she interrupted. "I'm sorry, Detec- Woody. I – I've had a long day. I'm tired."
He gestured to the chair across from hers. She nodded and waved at him to sit down. He did so carefully, as though her temper might flare again and singe him at any moment. "I was hoping maybe you had the Chu autopsy done."
Jordan swallowed. "Yeah. It's – It's right here. I – I need to sign it and make a copy."
"Mind if I…?" Without waiting, he reached for the papers. As he did so, the two photos slid toward him. Jordan grabbed for them, but Woody was faster. He started to hand them to her and then his eyes fell on the top one. His mouth twisted into a grimace and he spoke with the scorn she'd earlier only imagined, but now was entirely real. "Nice. Lovely. It looks like you had a great vacation, Jordan."
"Woody…." She watched as he slid the top picture to the side. Her hand shook with the desire to grab both photos, but especially the bottom one, from him.
He looked up at her. "You're…?"
Slowly, she shook her head, her eyes burning with fresh tears, her throat painfully tight.
"But – But this is…." Their conversation had become unfinished sentences, much like their relationship. He noticed the date and he did the math." This was a few days before you were hospitalized."
She nodded.
He spoke slowly, connecting the dots aloud. "You didn't hit your head. You – Oh, God, Jo, I'm sorry."
She fought back the tears.
"I – Uh – I don't know what to say. Are you all right?"
She nodded. "Physically."
""Yeah, I – I can imagine. The other… Pollack, he's – uh – he's there for you?"
"He moved back to Sydney."
"When you were pregnant?" If thoughts could kill, some M.E. down in New South Wales would soon be doing an autopsy on the body of one reporter, J.D. Pollack by name.
Jordan shook her head. "He didn't know. I didn't – She wasn't planned."
Woody's face softened. "A girl?"
"Yeah. Kathleen Marie."
Woody was the first one to ask. "Not Emily?"
"No." Jordan bit her lip. "She deserved her own name. A name that was – didn't have difficult memories. It was my dad's mom's name."
"Did you tell Pollack?"
She laughed harshly. "Today actually. Right before you came by. He called."
"You have had a hell of a day."
Jordan nodded. "I could go a long time without another one like it." She stood up and faced the window, unable to meet his blue eyes any longer. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but she couldn't. Not because she was afraid any longer of being hurt or even of hurting him, but because he no longer wanted to hear those things. He no longer needed her or wanted her in his life.
She gave a small gasp of surprise when his hands descended on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Jo. Really sorry. It must have been – terrible for you." He tugged at her shoulders gently, pulling her against him.
She let herself rest against him, let the warmth of his lean body soak into her, let the scent of his shampoo and aftershave envelop her. She tried to memorize every detail. "I – At first, I wasn't going to go through with it." She swallowed. "But I couldn't. I couldn't do that. I wanted her."
Her words went through him. She'd loved Pollack enough to want his baby. "Were you scared?"
"Terrified," she told him, smiling through her tears. "I guess I'm old-fashioned enough I'd always thought I'd be married – or at least with someone - when I had a kid."
"Did you ever think it might be…." He bit off the words that had flown from his soul to his lips without checking their flight plan with his brain.
"Did I ever think what?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing."
She pulled away, aware of a new tension in him. She took a deep breath and turned around. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Getting all – all – girlie. Dumping on you."
He shook his head again. "You didn't do that. I asked."
"Yeah, well…. Look, I'll copy the report for you and then you can get out of here."
"I'm not in a rush. I mean, if you want to talk. If it helps."
She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, but I'm sure Detective Simmons is expecting you."
"Why would she be?"
Jordan arched a brow. "You… her… I kind of heard… there was a rumor." I saw it with my own two eyes.
Woody smiled at her. "Rumors of my involvement with Detective Simmons were greatly exaggerated." He shrugged. "And she's moved to Chicago."
"Oh," Jordan squeaked. "I see. Well, still, let me copy this for you-"
"Let me do it, Jordan. My fingers aren't broken."
She gave in and, after signing it, handed him the report. She returned to stare out her window at the skyline. She turned at the sound of Garret's voice. "Go home, Jordan. That's an order."
"I am. I'm just waiting-"
"Now."
"Garret, I'm waiting for – There," she finished as Woody came back, report and copy in hand. "Woody needed a copy of my report on the hit-and-run this morning."
"Great, he's got it. Now go home."
"I'm going," Jordan promised.
With a final admonitory glance at his employee and a stern, warning glare at the detective, Garret continued down to his office.
"I'm not exactly his favorite person," Woody observed.
"Not exactly."
"You know, they're pretty protective of you around here."
She grinned. "Yeah."
"I was kind of thinking of asking if you'd like to grab some dinner…." His smile was tempting. "But I'm also thinking one of your colleagues might 'coincidentally' show up wherever we went."
"Yeah, we'd probably have to go to Connecticut to avoid them."
Woody studied her for a moment. "We'd better get going then."
"Why?"
His grin broadened. "It's a long drive to Connecticut."
END Part Five