Mac3- Course, Nige always saves the day, well, almost always.

Too late to change me- Thank you, I wanted to do something different, and I've never seen anyone blind her before. It also worked nicely, cause it made a good sequal, which I'd been wondering how to do.

pryrmtns- yeah, I've been lookin stuff up. It's helped too.

cavanaugh-girl- N/J! WOO!

KittyDoggyLover- Yes, its fun to make characters suffer. Lol.

rae1112, yes i know who- yeah, and thanks. the world of fanfiction is always cruel. lol.

peridotstone823- At first it was gonna be Woody that saved her (though she still wouldn't have forgiven him) but Nigel worked better.

carosu- thank you. I like trying new things.

Hey there! Sorry for the delay, writer's block has struck again, and I think it's still striking, cause I'm still a bit stuck. Oh well, it'll work out eventually. Oh, and Happy New year!

Back to the Basement

Chapter 6: There's No Place Like Home 3

- Jordan -

I went with Nigel to work the next day. He guided me carefully through the halls, where we were greeted cheerfully by both Bug and Lily. He led me into Garret's office, and I sat down.

"It's good to see you up and about again Jordan," he said somewhere across from me. I gave a half-hearted smile.

"If you can call this up and about," I replied. My own voice sounded different, even to me. It was strangely dull, almost lifeless. Garret must've heard it as well.

"Things will get easier," he said kindly. "It'll take awhile, but they will. In the meantime I've got a place for you." I gave a nod as half-hearted as my smile.

He was right about one thing at least; he had found me a place. I was to work mostly with Nigel, aiding him and assisting autopsies. Since I couldn't do any physical work, Nigel and I put our heads together to figure things out. It wasn't as bad as I had imagined, though I missed being able to do the autopsies on my own, and couldn't banish the feeling, that I wasn't really helping at all.

My old job wasn't the only thing I missed. I missed watching TV the way I used to, being able to walk around on my own, jogging on sunny days, and reading. I had loved to read, though it wasn't what I did most often, mostly because I just didn't have the time, Now however, I couldn't at all. I had to get books on tape or CD from the library, or else ask Nigel to read to me, which he would. I had to admit, he was good at it. He'd change his voice for different characters, sometimes attempting different accents as well, and basically made everything more exciting than someone on a CD ever could.

He noticed how I missed reading on my own however, and suggested that I learn braille. I thought this was a good idea; it would take away some of the helplessness that I was feeling almost constantly.

It was hard at first, even with Nigel helping and learning along with me. I just couldn't get the hang of all the little bumps. Eventually, as I practiced during time off, I started picking it up, getting better. Finally I had all the letters down, and sentences became easier. New possibilities opened. Garret began to get files printed with braille in addition to plain ink, so that I could now help with filing as well. This wasn't much better than paperwork, but it kept me busy at least.

One day, as Nigel led me into my apartment, which had become considerably easier to navigate by now, it became clear that he had something up his sleeve, because as he shut the door he said, "Wait right here love," and I could hear the smile in his voice. He walked away for a moment, and then I heard him come back and set something down.

"What's this about Nige?" I asked as he returned to my side.

"I got something for you," he said excitedly. He led me to a chair and I sat down, wondering what he had planned. One could never be quite sure when Nigel was concerned. He took my hands in his and placed them on something in front of me. This was what he'd been carrying, I thought.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Guess," he said. I could tell that he was grinning, and decided to play along. I ran my hands up the object's side. It was wide, made of metal. Further up, the metal ended and I felt the sharp edge of a piece of paper curling inwards. I moved my hands down again to feel the front of it, and found row upon row of small, raised buttons. I let my fingers glide gently over each one, and realized that they were all marked with a different braille letter or number.

"It's a typewriter," I said, slightly surprised.

"Brilliant eh?" Nigel replied happily. "A bit old fashioned, but it works just as well. And it'll give you something to do. I know how you love to read, so I thought maybe you could try your hand at writing." He then proceeded to show me how it worked, guiding my hands and teaching me how to remove and change the paper and such. Then he let me test it. I punched in a sentence and then reached up to touch the paper. I felt the words, 'my name is jordan cavanaugh' punched there. I smiled, more naturally than I had smiled in weeks.

"Thanks Nige." He gave my shoulder a squeeze, and then moved his long arms around me to type something as well. When he finished I reached up to feel what he had typed there: "you're welcome love"

I laughed and typed a response. He had become nearly as good at reading braille as me, and we amused ourselves for awhile, talking to each other through the typewriter, going through nearly three sheets of paper before giving up and laughing together. For a long time, we couldn't stop.

Life itself was slowly becoming easier, as Garret had said it would. I was almost used to the darkness now, and was surprised when I realized that I had been blind for nearly two months. I had begun talking to Stiles as well, and annoying as he could be, I found that the sessions helped a lot, the way they always did when you finally clued him in to what was wrong. The days had turned slowly cooler as time passed.

I spent a lot of free time at my new typewriter. I had taken Nigel's suggestion and tried writing, finding to my own surprise that not only was it enjoyable, but I was good at it. At first I simply did it to pass the time, an escape from reality. Then Nigel began reading my short stories, and enjoying them. He typed them up on a normal computer for others to read as well, and even Garret, who apparently had some experience in writing, said that I had talent.

The dream had come back a few times since that first night. Each time it was the same; Mitchell, then Nigel, then Woody, all telling me to kick the stool, to kill him. Each time I would wake up in the familiar darkness, confused, drenched in cold sweat. And each time, Nigel was there to wrap his arms around me comfortingly. I welcomed them gratefully, wishing that I could escape the painful reminders of everything that had gone wrong.

Work started becoming more and more annoying as I began feeling like more of a hindrance than a help. I knew that if I were any other random person, I would have had to leave for losing my sight, but I knew that Garret had a soft spot with my name on it. Though I knew where everything was and could easily get from one room to another on my own, the halls were always so busy that I needed an escort anyways, simply to keep me from bumping into people. This was why I preferred working at night, when the halls were emptier and I could navigate without worry, using the new cane that Nigel had gotten me. Though it was nice to continue working with him, I still felt like he was doing the vast majority of the work, no matter how much he insisted that I was of great help to him. Feeling useless was almost as bad as feeling helpless.

I was in one of these useless moods as I sat at my desk on afternoon, fingers flashing on my typewriter, which I had moved to the morgue, and listening to rain hitting the windows. I heard the door open, and then Nigel's voice.

"Hey love," he said cheerfully. "We've got work in autopsy one. Care to join?"

"What's the point?" I said glumly, not bothering to cease my frantic typing. "You do well enough without me anyways."

"Oh c'mon Jordan, I've told you…" but I cut him off.

"Yeah," I burst out angrily, spinning my chair to face him, "you've said that I'm a 'big help', but we both know that I don't really do anything useful. If I were anyone else I wouldn't be here right now. Garret only kept me on because he feels sorry for me, only pays me because he knows I have nowhere else to go!" I turned back around, fuming.

"That's not true." Nigel insisted quietly. I realized that I hadn't really been talking to him at all, but really ranting to myself. The calm sincerity in which he said it threw me off guard, and I suddenly felt sorry for having gone off at him like that. I bent my head and sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, head in my hands. "I didn't mean to yell." He walked over and put a comforting hand on my shoulder, which I covered with my own.

"You're still feeling helpless aren't you?" he asked quietly. I nodded. Stiles wasn't the only one I had confided my feelings to. "Well, I may be able to help," he continued. "Tell you what; you help me with this autopsy and then we ask for the rest of the day off. It's a slow day anyways, Dr. M won't mind." I nodded again and stood, letting Nigel lead me towards autopsy one.

Garret gave us the rest of the day, as Nigel said he would, and we headed back to my apartment. The rain had stopped and he told me that the sun had crept out. I could tell, I could feel the warmth of it shining on my face. It wasn't as cold today, and I needed nothing but a light sweatshirt. Once home, Nige closed the door and I went to sit on the couch, feeling him join me a moment later.

"Alright," he said. "I've been doing some research, and found a few things that may help you. For one-" he put something into my hands, and I recognized it immediately as my purse.

"So that's where this went," I said. "I was lookin for it."

"Open it," he said. I did, reaching inside to pull out some of the money within, except that I found that the bills were different. They were all folded in different ways. "I took the liberty of organizing your money," said Nigel happily. "So now you can recognize it on your own." I was surprised, but gave him a small smile all the same. Previously he had done my shopping with me, and though I could tell coins apart, he had handled the bills. He continued to explain what each one meant.

"The ones have been left unfolded, the fives are folded lengthwise, the tens are folded in half the other way, and the twenties are folded by both length and width." I moved my fingers over each one, identifying them for him while he confirmed my guesses, grinning from ear to ear I was sure.

"Thanks Nige," I said as I finished going through all of the notes in my purse. He touched my hand gently, and I smiled.

"C'mon," he said, standing and taking my arm. "I've got something else to show you." He led me back out of my apartment, locking the door behind us, and took me outside.

"Where are we going?" I asked, bemused.

"Not far love," he replied. "Just…here." We stopped and he faced me towards the building. "Put your hand out love," he said. I did, reaching forward, but feeling only air. "Lower."

I bent as I brought my arm down. I felt my hand brush against something smooth, and ran my fingers over it. Then I edged closer and felt my foot touch something hard and skinny.

"A bicycle?" I asked, confused. Nigel chuckled.

"Sort of," he said. "Keep going." I leaned even further and felt, to my even greater surprise, another bicycle seat.

"It's a bicycle for two," I said, catching on, and looking up in Nigel's general direction.

"I figured that you needed some way to get exercise," he said brightly. "Care to test it with me?"

"I love you Nige," I said as he began to pull it out. He chuckled and helped me onto the backseat.

"I love you too Jordan."

We rode around Boston for several enjoyable hours, Nigel warning me of turns and changes in terrain. It was great to feel the wind whipping at my face as we moved along at high speeds through what Nigel told me was a park. By the time we got back to my apartment I was both exhausted and in much higher spirits then before.

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