A/N: bad Rin, hasn't updated in a long while… and has basically no excuse whatsoever. But she's gonna blame it on the ridiculous heat wave in California! Hope some of you guys are still following this one after such a long break between chapters. Thanks to those who continually support my story! I would be lost without you.

Nynaeve1723 - Thank you thank you THANK YOU for all your help and feedback, I appreciate it so much. Here's hoping the chaos ends and the muses take over soon, lol.

Still Hurting

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to protect your neck when things are falling?" Jordan asked with a slight grimace, pouring antiseptic onto a thin towel to dab at the cuts on Nigel's skin.

After the shooting and their miraculous escape, the two had hurried back to Jordan's studio apartment, closed the blinds, turned off every light but one, and checked the locks on the door at least four times. Now, Jordan was attempting to clean the various cuts Nigel had received from the shattered window.

"Well it wasn't exactly my natural reaction at the time," he said, flinching as the towel came in contact with his skin.

"Sorry."

"S'all right. Let me just say, though, that it's a good thing you're a doctor to dead people."

"Oh thanks a lot!" she laughed good naturedly at his teasing, keeping on with her task.

They fell into silence, the only sounds coming from the traffic outside. Jordan dabbed gently at Nigel's neck, surprised at the steadiness of her hand. The evening had been enough to throw her off balance, mentally and physically. She had managed to avoid danger since she had arrived in D.C., and it terrified her to think that the night Nigel showed up at her door they suddenly became a target. It left her wondering how long she been followed. Or if it was even her. She did not find it hard to believe that whoever was involved in JD's murder would be watching her friends, waiting for them to expose where she was.

She swallowed hard, regretting how much danger she had probably put everyone in. At the time, it had been a matter of saving her own skin. Now there were other lives at risk. And still, all her time on the run trying to find any shred of evidence had revealed nothing. She sighed wearily.

"You all right, love?" Nigel asked her softly, his gaze dropped to the ground while she ministered to him.

"Yeah," she answered mechanically, then shook her head at her own lie. "No, not really."

"Still shaken up?"

"Kind of," she said. Biting her lip, she concentrated on keeping a neutral voice. "Nige, I think you should go back to Boston."

Beneath her hands, she felt his body drop as he exhaled in frustration. He turned around to face her, taking hold of her hands. His face looked almost as tired as she felt, and she saw a glint of sorrow in his eyes.

"I can't leave you here alone, Jordan. Not after what happened tonight," he told her. "What if it happens again?"

"That's why you need to get out of here," she said firmly. "You're in danger just by being with me. Hell, you're probably in danger just for knowing me!"

"Yeah, well that's not exactly a new story, is it?" he said with a slight smirk. "We've been here before."

"No," Jordan remained serious. "We've never been in a situation like this before. Not like this, this is completely different. I don't want you in danger because of me."

Nigel studied her face for a moment, taking in all the damage the last few months had done to her. It broke his heart to see her this frightened and helpless to do anything about it.

"Come back to Boston with me," he said, continuing quickly at the immediate, defiant look on her face. "Do you see what's going on, Jordan? You were shot at tonight! Someone out there wants to keep you quiet, and I'm bloody well not going to just up and leave you here."

"I ran, Nigel," she argued pointedly, pulling her hands out of his grasp. "That doesn't look very good when you've been accused of murder. I can't go back there."

"So you'd rather stay here and risk being murdered yourself?" he shot back at her, trying to make her see some reason. "There's nothing here, Jordan. You're running into dead ends left and right. Meanwhile, whoever is orchestrating all this has been closing in on you all this time."

"Which is why you need to leave before you get too involved!"

"I am not going back to Boston so that I can wait for your body to show up in the morgue!"

The small sound of scuffling near the door made them both freeze mid fight and turn wide eyed in that direction. In the dim light, they saw an envelope lying innocently on the floor just inside the door.

"Shit," Nigel muttered, realizing that anyone could have been listening to their argument the entire time. The old building was far from soundproof.

Jordan rose slowly from her chair and walked tentatively towards the door. She knelt and picked up the envelope as though it might bite her. She glanced at Nigel, searching for reassurance that it was harmless. He returned her skeptical look and stood up to join her. Taking the envelope from her hand, he did his best to inspect it for anything that looked suspicious.

"Nothing too strange about it," he informed her. "Not sealed, though, so there's no way we could pull DNA from saliva deposits."

Nodding her agreement, Jordan took hold of the envelope again and opened it, pulling a single sheet of paper from it with a typed note. She read it aloud.

"'If you want answers, be at The Blarney Stone at three o'clock tomorrow.'"

"They want us to go to Ireland?" Nigel questioned, slightly confused.

"No," Jordan said, slipping the note back into the envelope. "The Blarney Stone is a pub in one of the less friendly areas of the city."

"Great," he said with false enthusiasm. "This sounds off, Jordan."

"Something is happening, Nige. It's been a cold trail all this time, and now this," she held up the envelope, a spark igniting in her eyes.

"Yeah, but don't you think it's a little too easy?" he asked her in slight disbelief. Jordan was awfully quick to trust the offer.

She looked up at him, and once again he saw the desperation and the exhaustion that plagued her. He knew what she was thinking. She was reaching a breaking point, and any chance at ending her exile was to be taken.

"I know," she said. "I know this is crazy. But when have I ever let that stop me before?" she smiled sadly at him, her eyes darkening, pleading with him. "I need this to be over, Nigel. I can't live with it any longer. I have to let him go."

Before the tears could have a chance to fall down her cheeks, Nigel had pulled her into a tight embrace, rubbing her back and whispering words of comfort. Almost without thinking, he guided her to the bed and laid her down, crawling under the quilt next to her and pulling her close to him. He kissed her gently on the forehead and stroked her hair until he could hear her breathing even out in sleep before closing his own eyes and falling into uncertain dreams.

The hours passed agonizingly slowly for Jordan the next day. She had slept soundly for the first time in a long time, wrapped safely in Nigel's arms, but once day broke she was gripped with anxiety again. Her desperation to end the mystery of JD's murder was starting to frighten her. Meeting an anonymous tip was not uncommon for her, but as she had told Nigel so firmly, this was not a common circumstance.

As the time came to leave for The Blarney Stone, Jordan found herself nearly shaking in anticipation of what was to come. Despite her best attempts to dissuade him, Nigel insisted on coming with her. She was grateful for his presence as they approached the door of the establishment, tucked darkly at the rear of a dead end street. Jordan did not miss the irony. Unlike its Irish inspiration, The Blarney Stone appeared to be anything but the shine of luck.

When they entered, they were hit by the intense smell of beer and cigarettes. The place was dimly lit by hanging lamps covered in amber glass shades. Under any other circumstances, it could have been called cozy, with a wealth of wall decorations and unique knick-knacks. Save for the bartender and a man sitting at the bar, it appeared deserted. Their entrance attracted the attention of both. The bartender eyed them as he dried a mug.

"Lookin' for someone?" he asked them, not unkindly.

"Yeah," Jordan said calmly.

The bartender nodded his head towards a booth in the back.

"Over there," he said.

Jordan exchanged a look with Nigel and started hesitantly in the direction the man had indicated. The TV above the bar loudly announced the action of a baseball game. She was grateful for the noise. As they neared the table, Jordan could see the outline of a man in the booth. When she reached the table and her informer's face came into view, her jaw dropped and she had the distinct impression that her legs might actually fail her.

"Dad…"