Mac3- Thank you, I'm putting up chapters as fast as I can. I think the writer's block may be gone, but you can never be sure. The next chapter will probably come a bit quicker.

KittyDoggyLover- yeah, the two-person bike idea came from a website for dealing with blindness. (I did a bit of research.) So did the folding money idea.

raven- Because you're you...you can't ride a bike? I couldn't until I was like, 11, when my dad finally forced me to learn. lol. And...heck no that wasn't the last chapter! Why would I end it like that! Several more chappies to come! (I hope, lol)

I brought back Nigel again (yay!) and this whole chapter is in his POV from when Jordan was in the hospital until now, and then it goes a bit further.

Thankies again to all for the reviews so far. I'm enjoying writing this one almost as much as The Basement! Sorry once again for the long waits, like I said, I hope the next chapter will come a bit more quickly!

Back to the Basement

Chapter 7: He's After Her

- Nigel -

"Nige, why is it so dark?"

I was more than a bit confused when I first heard her say this, though my confusion was almost immediately joined by the sense that something was terribly wrong. The hospital room was brightly lit, what I thought would be far too bright for someone just waking up after an experience like hers. And yet she held her eyes wide open. I answered her question truthfully, telling her that it was not dark in here at all. Her next words I will remember my whole life.

"Nigel," she whispered, "I think I'm blind."

The horror that came with that sentence is indescribable. It was at that moment that I knew all would change. And I was right.

I called the doctor in, who confirmed the worst, confirmed that Jordan, my Jordan, could no longer see. I stayed with her as he left. She cried, harder than I had ever seen her cry before, save when I was being hanged. I held her hand and tried to keep my own tears inaudible. I visited her every day after that, and even slept once or twice in the chair at her bedside. Others visited as well: her father, naturally, as well as Lily, Bug, and Garret. Woody tried a few times, but we always managed to keep him away. He was the last one Jordan needed a visit from.

She eventually left the hospital, and I took her home. I was to move in with her, for now at least. It broke my heart to watch the way she shuffled along, clinging to my arm as if for dear life. My poor girl. I knew exactly what she was going through. During the brief period that she and I had spent down in that basement, where it was pitch black and nothing could be seen, I discovered the meaning of blindness. I could only imagine what it'd be like to live with that degree of darkness every day, the way Jordan would most likely live from now on.

We spent that evening listening to music, before she became tired and I carried her to bed. I eventually fell asleep as well, though I was awoken not long after by the sound of her voice. She was tossing, moaning in her sleep, reaching for something that wasn't there.

"NO!" Her moans turned to yells as she began to flail her arms, almost smacking me in the face.

"Jordan!" I said loudly, taking hold of her still flailing arms and wrapping my own around her. She seemed to calm down then, pausing for a moment and breathing deeply, before collapsing into my arms, crying. I tried to comfort her, and then she spoke.

"I thought…I thought I was in the basement," she said shakily. "When I woke up it was black. I forgot, and I thought we were still down there…" Of course, I thought. She had obviously dreamt about the basement, and then woken up in darkness, forgetting that she was blind. It startled her, to say the least.

I tightened my grip on her and we sat there until she stopped crying. Then we lay back down and she fell asleep in my arms, though I lay awake.

I was grateful towards Dr. M for letting her stay at the morgue. True, she couldn't work her normal job anymore, but she was a help to me, working with me to answer unsolved questions during autopsies, and Garret continued to pay her full for it.

I could tell that he missed her old job however, as well as other things. Reading was one of them. I had never known that Jordan Cavanaugh enjoyed reading, though she did. She got books on CD to listen to, though I cold tell it wasn't the same. Some of the readers were dreadful, and not all of the books she wanted were available on CD, or even cassette. In these cases, I would read. I did my best to make it an enjoyable experience for her, and it seemed to work. She told me more than once that I was better than most of the readers she had ever listened to.

Yet I could tell that she felt guilty having me do it for her; it brought back an apparent sense of helplessness. I suggested that she learn brail, which would give her some independence back. We began learning together, though she mastered it a bit more quickly than I did. We both got it eventually, and she was happy about it, yet I still wanted to give her something more, a way to express herself.

This gave me an idea, and I sent a letter home to my Auntie Bea, who sent back an old brail typewriter. It had been given to her years ago by a blind friend of hers who didn't need it anymore, and she obviously had no use for it, so I requested for her to send it along. Jordan seemed thrilled, and took to trying it right away. At first I didn't pay much attention to what she wrote, leaving her to do what she would with it. Yet as she spent increasingly long amounts of time typing, I became curious and read, or rather felt, one of the pieces of paper that she had gone through, and was amazed.

She had been writing stories, and they weren't half bad. With her permission, I began typing and printing them on my computer to share with the others at the morgue. We agreed that she had found a new talent, and she became happier than I had seen her in a long time.

This newfound cheerfulness didn't stick around however as she began looking a bit depressed again. Nightmares continued to pop up every once in awhile, seemingly the same one every time, and it was obvious that she still felt useless at work. I was very surprised as she burst one day when I asked her to help me with an autopsy.

"You've said that I'm a 'big help'," she said angrily, "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 had no idea that she was feeling this bad, and decided it was the perfect time to show her some of the things that I had hidden up my sleeve. I took her home that afternoon and showed her how I had organized her money, and then brought out her new bicycle for the grand finale. It worked, she seemed instantly happy again as we sped through the park. I put the bike back on the bike rack outside when we returned, and turned around to find Jordan standing statue still, facing the sun with her eyes closed. I watched her sadly, and then put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She covered it with her own.

"Describe it to me," she said, her eyes still closed. I sighed and examined the scene before us, wondering how to best illustrate it for her.

"The sun's just starting to sink," I began, "so it hasn't quite turned color yet. It's still unbearably golden. The sky is a bright blue above our heads, and yet starts fading to violet towards the horizon. The trees are beginning to turn color as well, their leaves mostly light green with splashes of yellow or orange here and there. It's beautiful…" I stopped quickly and looked at her, horrified to see a tear making its way down her cheek. "I'm sorry love," I said, wrapping my arms around her. "I didn't mean to."

"It's alright," she said, brushing the tear away and turning to me. "Thank you. I needed to see it." I smiled sadly.

"You're welcome love." I leaned forwards and we kissed before we heading back inside, my arm around her.

She began asking me for descriptions often after that, mostly when we left for work, and then at random points throughout the day. It became almost a ritual, a routine. I painted the best pictures I could for her, and she seemed to take pleasure in being able to, for the first time in months, know her surroundings. Woody had stopped bugging her altogether, and I didn't hear from him for a very long time. Then one night, as I sat at my computer, the phone rang and I found his voice at the other end.

"What's up?" I asked casually, though confused as to why he was calling me.

"Nigel," came his rushed reply. "I need to talk to you about Jordan." I sighed.

"Can't you just give her a rest Woodrow?" I asked wearily.

"No, it's not like that," he said quickly. "She's in danger." I sat up straighter in my chair.

"What?"

"You know the guy you shot in DC? We had him checked out as soon as you guys sent the ID. It wasn't a random attack; she was targeted."

"How do you know?" I asked, frowning slightly.

"He was a member of Mitchell's gang, one of a few left to be brought in. There's only one still active right now, and he's been sighted in Boston." There was a pause, just long enough for my eyes to widen as I let this news sink in.

"Does Jordan know?" I asked weakly after a moment.

"I called her, but she hung up before I said three words. I know she won't listen to me, and she needs protection this time. This guy wants revenge, Nigel. He's after her." Another pause.

"I'll take care of her, Woody," I said. "I won't let her get hurt."

"I hope you don't."

He hung up, and I followed suit, breathing heavily as if I had just run a marathon. I jumped from my chair and left the office, taking long strides down the hall and quickly arriving at Jordan's office, where she sat at her typewriter.

"Jordan," I said frantically, moving to stand just behind her.

"Hey Nige," she said brightly, her fingers flying over the keys. Then she must have sensed something was up, because she stopped typing and turned to me. "What is it?" I sighed and lowered myself onto one knee, taking her hands in mine.

"Jordan," I began slowly, "you know the man who attacked you? The mugger?"

"Yeah, what about him?" she asked, rather stiffly I thought.

"He wasn't a mugger."

"What?"

"He was in Mitchell's gang. Now there's only one active member left, and he's in Boston." She froze, and I saw a rare look of fear flit over her face, before it was quickly stifled and replaced by a mask of defiance. "You need protection," I continued seriously. "I'm going to take you home for the night and tomorrow we'll go to the police." She opened her mouth as if to protest, but I cut her off. "It's not up for debate," I said. "Remember what happened last time?" She paused, sighed, closed her mouth, and then nodded silently. "C'mon love."

She stood, taking up her cane, and I led her out of the office. We stopped briefly to explain the situation to Dr. Macy, who let us go right away, telling us to take care of ourselves and to be careful.

We made our way quickly out of the morgue and to my car. I was glad that I had, for once, left my motorcycle at home; my gun was here in the glove compartment. We drove in silence, her left hand gripping my right, our fingers tightly intertwined. She didn't need my guidance as we stepped out into the chilly night air and walked into the apartment building, though her hand stayed in mine as I opened the door with my key and we entered, sitting down on the couch. I stood up again almost immediately.

"Damn," I muttered, frowning.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"I left my gun in the car." In my hurry to get Jordan safely into her apartment I had completely forgotten about the weapon still sitting in the glove compartment.

"Then go get it," she said, and then sensing my coming protest she added, "The guy could be anywhere in Boston. I think I'll be alright for five minutes." I gave a small smile.

"I'll be back in a moment," I said. I bent down to give her a swift kiss on the cheek before turning my back and walking briskly out the door.

It was about halfway down the hallway when something hard and solid swung out of nowhere and struck the side of my head. I fell to the floor and instantly lost consciousness.

Hehe, had to leave you all with yet another cliffie! (Evil laugh)