AN: I wrote this after reading a bunch of fanfics that praised JD to the high heavens. This is a different take on it all. I'm not sure if it is a one shot. I might continue. Depends on what you all think.


And I Haven't

By Elisabeth Carmichael

Jordan smiled meekly as she walked back from the drug store. It was a rather dingy little dive in a less than desirable area of DC, but the night manager had a penchant for playing The Kinks and selections from the musical Wicked. As a surprise she had taken Woody to see Wicked not long before the case up at the Lucy Carver Inn, and they had both fallen in love with the heart-wrenching melodies.

Stepping over a puddle to cross the street, Jordan chuckled as she shook her head slightly and lightly bit the corner of her lip. As she was checking out at the drug store "For Good" came on over the speaker system. The words were simple, the melody one of melancholy longing for what could never be, and yet it conveyed such a truth. "People come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn."

Over the past year she had learned a lot, grown up a lot, changed a lot, in part due to Woody. The shooting had been hard on everybody, but in a twisted sort of way, Jordan knew it had to happen. Suddenly Woody was not the one taking care of poor, broken Jordan. Suddenly Woody was poor and broken, and neither of them knew quite how to handle it. But they did, in their own twisted way, they learned how to handle it.

As she crossed the street to avoid a dark alleyway, Jordan caught sight of a rusty old Volvo station wagon parked in front of an abandoned lot. JD. She gripped the brown paper bag tighter. JD had taught her a lot, confirmed a lot for her too. Biting her lip she shook her head incredulously. Garret had once told her that JD was good for her, that he was helping Jordan see a real relationship. God, Garret couldn't have been further from the truth.

JD was an ass. He was a bastard if ever one was born, a damned self-righteous reporter who used Jordan more than she used him. No, he wasn't the one who cheated, not in the common sense at least, but he lied to her at nearly every turn to keep her off the trail of his mistress, journalism. Jordan tossed her empty cup of coffee into the corner trash can. In the end, he was still using her. She shook her head in disbelief. If there was one thing that bastard taught her, it was that men are damn liars who use and use and use all the while making you feel guilty as hell.

Jordan knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself. He was dead. She felt guilty about his death, knowing that if, if she hadn't called him he might have gotten to live for a few more days, but she couldn't help herself from hating him. When he came back into town all he did was reconfirm her beliefs that relationships hurt. And when they were dating, he had proven it time and time again. He didn't trust her. He used her. He followed her. He manipulated her. The only thing he was good for was learning perseverance, and in the end, it didn't even matter.

He wasn't this God-send relationship guru that people seemed to think he was. He was a jealous ass, a desperate attempt to soothe the open wounds left from Woody's rejection. At best, he was a catalyst for change. He forced her to try at a relationship. She did. He forced her to confront her feelings. She did. He forced her to grow up not because she loved him, but because to be with him required maturity. So she did. Jordan laughed as she turned the key to her building. It all sounded so…so ridiculously bitter.

The best part about JD was that while she was dating him she finally took her relationship with Woody to the next level. God, the irony. Her brunette curls bounced up and down as she started laughing hysterically, keeling over mid-way up the stairs in hysterics.

She had learned how to persevere through a bad relationship, how to stay despite the urge to run. She had learned that men are pigs, most of the time anyways, but she hadn't run. Maybe that was it. Maybe JD came into her life to stop her from running. It wasn't some great thing he did, more like an accident, like a drunk driver who broke her legs, but it served a purpose.

In that way she had grown up because of JD. And then Kayla came into the picture. Jordan paused as she opened the door to her efficiency. Kayla was huge in helping Jordan grow up. With Kayla, Jordan learned resolve. She learned how to take care of another person. She learned that she could do it. And she learned that it didn't have to hurt, even when it got hard, even when Kayla was taken away.

Jordan walked into her bathroom and set the brown paper bag down near the sink. Woody. He had been so sweet in that letter. Someday Jordan, you'll make a terrific mother... and truth be told, part of me hoped something would come of that night at the Lucy Carver. My only hope is that someday when you have children, they are mine. She had changed.

And then she went and told him that she had grown up. In his innocent voice with puppy-dog eyes he stared at her, "And I haven't?" Instead of answering she simply walked away, unable to form those words. But now, the more she thought about it, maybe it wasn't so much that he hadn't grown up, but that he didn't realize she had. He didn't realize that she wouldn't run from a relationship, didn't realize she was ready to try and make it work. So he told her, he didn't want to be her rebound.

It was a stupid excuse. And it hurt. God it hurt down to her core because she knew, she so instinctively knew that he couldn't see how much she had changed. He couldn't see how much pain she had to endure to become this new person. It had all been for nothing. Deep down, when it got really hard to stick it out, when running felt like the only option, Woody had kept her grounded, just knowing that maybe when this painful transformation was complete, it would be into his arms that she could run.

JD never offered that. He never even called her Jordan. It was always "Cavanaugh," with a slight drawl, a slight tinge of saliva left lingering. And she called him "Pollack," which now that she thought of it sounded an awful lot like poultry or colic. How could he have thought they had a good relationship? He bought a ring! Didn't he see that they were nothing more than casual?

Jordan pulled the small cardboard box from the brown paper bag. It had purple stripes on it. Ironic that her favorite color appeared on such a despised little package. After everything was set and done she walked slowly into the kitchen, picking up the phone and dialing a number she knew by heart. How she longed to hear that voice. It had been a long two weeks.

"Hoyt," he answered. And she knew for him, those two weeks had been even longer.