A/N a less angsty chapter.. but i'm sure the angst is still going to return.. I hope this is a nice respite though!


(Five minutes before he knew)

"Please Sweetheart?" He ran his hand across her cheek, pushing her hair away from her pale face. "Jordan?"

Stiles said nothing for a moment, he just watched.

"Woody, are you sure?"

"Yes." He said stiffly.

"In light of current events I think it would be-."

"It doesn't matter what you think." Woody whispered sharply. "Last time I checked you weren't listed as her next of kin. I was."

"Detective, I can imagine the guilt you must be-."

"I bet you can." He turned towards the little man. "You should have seen this coming. You're the shrink, you were actually with her." He said stiffly. "I wasn't. You kicked me out remember?" Stiles swallowed, not sure what to say next. "She called me Stiles, not you and not the morgue. She needed me, and this time I'm here." He turned back around, Stiles watched him readjust his hold on her hand. "I'm here, Jordan."


(Ten minutes before he knew)

"Woody? Woody I didn't mean to."

He tried to shake the memory of her voice on the phone out of his head. He squinted his eyes tightly, running his thumbs across her hand.

"What did you do Jordan?"

"Woody.." Her words slurred. She was drunk? At three in the afternoon? "I don't feel-."

"Where are you?"

"I'm.. I need you."

"I'll be there. Just answer me, where are you?"

"Park. The bench. Our.." He was a good ten minutes away.

"Stay there! You hear me? Stay there!"

The nurse walked towards her with a towel. He put up his hand taking it from her and wiping the left over charcoal powder off of her lips. Jordan's head turned slightly towards him. The nurse smiled at him, before pulling up on her eye lid gently studying her pupil. Woody grimaced, squeezing her hand in his.

"Is she still okay?" He asked helplessly.

The girl nodded at Woody.

"The doctor will have her tox-screen results in a few minutes. We'll know more then." She told him as she slipped half way out the door. "You saved her life, Detective."

I saved my own. He told himself. She is my life. What the hell else do I have with out her? My job? Santana and Seely? Lu Simmons? A bunch of people that know nothing about me, no matter how much they think they do. No, she's all I have.

He heard Stiles come in, he said nothing. He just set his jaw and focused his eyes on Jordan's face.


(A half an hour before he knew)

The nurse watched him run his hands over his face before glancing back at her patient. Pretty girl, gorgeous boyfriend, she wondered why people do the things they do.

"Jordan?" He said again brushing her hair from his face. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"We're still waiting for her test results, Detective. We're not sure if she mixed anything with the alcohol or not." The man closed his eyes tightly. "You said she'd had a previous attempt." He shook his head.

"It was an accident." He snapped. The young woman felt sorry for him.

"Her psychiatrist says they're is a family history of-."

"He's not her psychiatrist. He's the state's psychiatrist." The looked up at the man shaking his head, it was obvious he was about to freak out. "I don't want him anywhere near her."

"You'll have to tell him that yourself, Detective Hoyt. Then I'll have to order a psych consult from upstairs." The man told him. "Accident or not, you're girlfriend was engaging in some risky behaviors. I understand she was apart of the bombing tragedy. It's not uncommon for people to experience traumatic stress episodes or even breakdowns following-."

"Thank you doctor." He interrupted, grimacing. The emergency room doctor nodded before leaving the room.

The nurse started cleaning her up, wiping bits of charcoal off of her face and pulling the absorbent cloth pads from around her shoulders and neck. He stopped her with a gentle hand.

"I can.. please." She handed him the cloth and watched him tend to her. Why? With a man like that would you do what this woman had done?


(An hour before he knew)

They busted through the doors of the emergency room with an urgency that sent Woody back in time. His hand tingled and he tightened his grip on her.

"Thirty three year old female, found semiconscious on a park bench in an altered mental state, suspected alcohol ingestion, history of drug overdose, became unresponsive at the scene and went into respiratory distress. We got her breathing again in the bus, but it's still pretty erratic. Pulse is weak but steady, BP's holding. She's been in and out"

"How long?" The doctor asked. Woody was trying to think when he heard Santana answer.

"We got to her about twenty five minutes ago."

"And you are?"

"Detective Christina Santana BPD." She hissed at him in frustration.

"Woody?" Her eyes were closed and her voice was soft and slurred, but she was still there.

"I'm here." He told her kissing the back of her hand.

"Sir we'll take her from here."

"I'm not leaving her." He said firmly.

"Are you a family member?"

"He's her boyfriend." Santana shouted before he could think. "Detective Woody Hoyt."

"I.. I have power of attorney." He whispered breathlessly hoping to God he still did. She wouldn't have changed it? Would she have changed it? He hadn't changed his.

"Okay Detective, try to stay out of the way."


(When he knew)

"You're sure that's all? Thank God." She knew that voice. He's here. "Tell the woman with me to call the morgue now." The woman with him? He wouldn't.. wait.. Santana. "Thank God."

"I understand your relief but it's still a very serious thing, Detective. Her blood alcohol was .34 for someone her size it could have been deadly." My what was what?

"Humm.." She felt the grip on her hand tighten as her eyes started to focus.

"Hey.. Jordan can you hear me?" He's here.

"My.. my throat hurts." She rasped looking at the ceiling.

"I bet." He chuckled in the way he did when he was frustrated with her. "They crammed a tube and about a pound of charcoal down it."

"What did I-?"

"You scared the hell out of me, Jordan. That's what you did." Her eyes narrowed but he kissed her anyway. "You're going to be okay, Sweetheart."

She studied him for a moment, afraid to take her hand out of his. Afraid to let go of him.

"Is this when I'm supposed to start the pity speech?" She had expected to sound harsh, but it had only sounded weak. She felt the tears on her face and he quickly wiped them away.

"Start what ever you want. I'm not moving from this spot." His hand was warm and comforting on her forehead. "I've already sent Stiles away and Lily's not here yet, so there's no one to save you from me."

"Oh God what did I do?" She whimpered feeling a wave of nausea rush over her. He quickly put a cool washcloth to her face reaching for a basin. She shook her head and he put it down, running his hands back through her hair. She closed her eyes and focused on his touch.

"You drank way way way too much." He shook his head. "How long had it been since you had eaten?"

"I don't know." She told him honestly.

"We'll the only thing that came out of you was hard liquor." He grimaced. "I know that from personal observation." She smiled weakly at him.

"You stayed? You still get queasy in autopsy." She felt her heavy eyes fight to open.

"I told you. I'm not moving from this spot." He wiped away her fresh tears. She struggled to keep her eyes open. "It's okay you need to rest." He brushed his thumb over her eyes keeping her from opening them.

"You're staying?"

"I swear to you Jordan. It would take a court order." She felt his lips softly brush hers. "And when you're feeling better, we are going to have a long talk about the millions of ways you make me happy."