Disclaimer: Must refrain from witty remarks. Eh, I'm not that witty, so it's not that hard. I disclaim.

Author's Note: So, I'm really keeping up with this short chapter thing. Again, no so much with getting them out so fast, but I'm working on it. I promise.

Just a little note, that actually deals directly with the story. WIWJ had made a comment in his/her review that made me feel that I should kind of clarify something. The flashbacks/dream sequences aren't in any chronological order, just in the order that Jordan is remembering them. So, yes, they're confusing, because the reader doesn't know what came first, but it's intended. It's supposed to be muddled. I have a vague timeline in my head of when everything happened and there are little details that give you, the reader, an even vaguer idea of when it all went down, but again it's all intended.

So, speaking of flashbacks, this chapter starts out with one. You may now continue to skip over the longwinded AN and read on. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Being Scared

The room was silent, save the soft hum of the radio, tuned to a station that didn't exist, broadcasting only static. On the table sat a single shot glass filled with a finger of Jack Daniels. The glass remained untouched, small beads of condensation rolling down the sides and onto a thick stack of newspaper. He sat stiffly in the chair, his eyes focused intently on the glass and the nearly full bottle beside it.

She was watching him and he knew. Knew that she was standing in the doorway, one slender hand on the frame, and the other set on her hip. Knew that her full mouth was pulled into a sad frown. But he would never really be sure if it was for him or for her. What frightened him more was the fact that it didn't even seem to matter anymore. Nothing did.

"You going to drink that?" she asked quietly, stepping into the room.

"Thinking about it," he nodded.

Woody wasn't much of a drinker, but neither himself nor Jordan could tell anyone just who he was anymore, so the alcohol was poured and ready, but sat still.

Jordan's frown turned into a weak smile as she sat herself on the arm of the chair. Slipping a comforting arm around his shoulders, she wondered if she should have been more surprised when he pulled away from her touch. Her hand fell slightly and she brought it to rest on his knee. This time he didn't shift his body away from her, but he didn't acknowledge the gesture.

"That's everything you know," he remarked in an even tone. "Everyone, everything. That's it. Gone."

"Everyone?" Jordan questioned with a small amount of hurt in her voice. He didn't acknowledge that either.

"God, life is such a joke," Woody said, shaking his head. He absently rubbed his chin and leaned further back into the chair, then chuckled softly. "It just beats you down and laughs."

"Not if you let it," she replied.

"Oh, so I let this happen? It's because I let it?" the chuckle deepened. "I wish I knew beforehand that my own will controlled life's many downfalls. Would have saved me a lot of grief."

"I'm sure it would," Jordan sighed. She stood up abruptly and angrily shook her head.

"Please don't go."

His hand reached for hers. He barely grabbed onto her fingers as she began to walk away, but the small action made Jordan's heart ache too much to just leave him alone. She gave another heavy sigh and reluctantly sat on the table in front of him.

"I won't go, if you tell me why you want me to stay," Jordan said slowly.

"Need," Woody corrected softly. "Need you to stay."

"Alright."

"I need you to stay, because I honestly don't know what I would do if you didn't. I don't know what would happen to me or what could happen me. And I've been scared of more things than I can even count Jordan, but that thought just terrifies me," he said, still softly.

He hung his head low and swept a tired hand over his eyes. It was then that Jordan realized that she had never seen him cry. Not now, when he should have been, not ever. She went place the same hand on his knee again and as she did, he held her arm tightly, gently pulling her into his lap. It wasn't something she expected, but it was something that she had wanted to expect. Because she was sure that sometime it was supposed to be like this.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Me too," he told her in the same voice.

"Not for what I said, but for—" Jordan began, and then stopped.

Woody looked at her and nodded, letting her know that he understood exactly why she was apologizing. He pulled her closer to him, her dark hair disappearing against his equally dark suit jacket as her head fell to his chest.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"Nothing happens like it's supposed to," she answered.

He nodded again, but Jordan didn't think that he was agreeing with her, he just seemed too worn out to argue.

She felt the small, choked sob before she heard it. It lasted only a moment and Jordan wasn't even sure if actual tears fell, but for once something like that didn't matter. She pushed her body against him, burying herself into him and finally felt like things might start to be right, even when everything was still wrong.

"How about that drink," Jordan suggested, reaching for the untouched shot glass.

"For me, not you," Woody said, with his lips settling somewhere in between a smile and a frown as he glanced down at her slightly protruding stomach.

"No, for him," she stated.

"For him."

Woody leaned over and grabbed the glass, a light ring of water left behind in its absence. It made a perfect, wet circle over the black and white picture of a young man's obituary. And just below, in bold script was the name, "Calvin Coolidge Hoyt".

Woody threw back the shot and untidily wiped his mouth.

"For Cal," he said and slammed the glass back down onto the table.

Jordan hadn't thought about that night in years. After it had happened, it was all she could think about. But soon, the memory faded and Jordan had forgotten that nights like that ever existed. It was the low buzz of her own radio that had made her remember. Just the crackling of static, and the cold breeze from the open window took her back.

She shook her head, turned of the radio and closed the window. Thinking that maybe in doing so, it would somehow erase the memory. But as Jordan dropped the pane, it didn't go away. It had rained that night, she remembered. Small, misty drops fell during the day too, landing on the polished wood of the casket. There was a sea of black umbrellas, masking everybody's face. Woody didn't need an umbrella, he was stoic enough without one.

Jordan always thought that night was the night that more than ever he had began to change. It had started before then, of course, but that night something broke inside of him. And no matter how hard she had tried to fix it, she couldn't. No one could. In the end she didn't even want to.

She knew from her now weekly phone call from Lily that he had asked about her once. But, only once and never since. Jordan was curious why he had picked now to wonder what had happened to her, but decided it was all the same. Her game of pretend was paying off, the more she pretended the more this new life became real. And soon, everything else would just become another one of her faded memories. She would think about it every now and then, but it wouldn't be more than that.

And just like that night, when Woody had said that it was Jordan leaving him that was most terrifying, even though more things scared him than he could count; Jordan was absolutely terrified of forgetting.

WIWJ: Well, your comment sort of got acknowledged in the author's note, but I'll add that the dreams are my favorite part to write.

black.n.blu: See, it still hasn't been abandoned yet! Yay! Oh, and awesome for reading a story with a pairing you don't usually read. I'll admit that I've sometimes skipped over a story because I'm not sold on the pairing, so yeah, awesome.

Orlando-crazy: Promise I'm working on the soon thing. Hee.

cavanaugh-girl: Thanks! And again, I love writing the dreams/flashbacks.

red lighting: Sorry, I don't usually take requests, (I have enough trouble trying to finish my own fics) but I'm sure you can find somebody else to write the story. Or your friend could even write it herself.

howartsalumni: Thanks!

maehsweet: There's a little more to that twist than just Jordan loving him. I think this chapter hints a bit at that. And once more, I'm glad so many of you guys like the dreams and flashbacks, because they're really the basis for the story.

being-olivia: Thanks and I'm working on finishing it. I said I wanted to do it in ten or so chapters, but maybe I'll wrap it up before then. We'll see.