Sorry this is later than usual. I think the weekends are actually getting shorter. The next chaper will probably be up in the next week and a half, since I'll be away from home all weekend. Thank you for the reviews from the last chapter! Enjoy!:-)

Chapter Twelve: Insecurities

The NCIS team came by the next day. Jordan supposed that they wanted a statement, which they did, but she didn't expect Ziva to be so emotional.

"I am so sorry," Ziva said, for the fortieth time or so. "I can't believe this happened…it should have been me…it should have."

Jordan gave her a small smirk. "Yeah, it should have been." She sighed. "Honestly, Ziva, I'm not angry…not at you, at least. It wasn't your fault…it was completely out of your control."

"I know…but I was the target, and you weren't…well, you haven't been trained to handle these things," Ziva trailed off, unable to really explain herself.

"It's still not your fault," Jordan reiterated. "Really, I'll be fine…I'll heal. It's the terrorists who are going to pay."

At this, Ziva smiled. "They're already in Guantanamo."

"Bet it's a real party."

Both women smirked, and Ziva leaned over to give Jordan a hug. "Gibbs wants to get your statement now, if that's okay," she said.

Jordan nodded, and Ziva got up to leave.

As she did, Woody came over and sat on the bed with Jordan. He leaned back against the pillows and put his arm around her.

She was okay at first while Gibbs and McGee entered, but she tensed and looked away as soon as she saw DiNozzo. Woody felt her reaction and gave her a small squeeze, though he really didn't understand why Tony would upset her.

Gibbs must have noticed her mood change as well, because he caught Tony's eye and jerked his head out the door. Tony nodded once and he made his way back out.

The statement didn't take very long. Jordan couldn't remember much of what her captors had said, other than the questions they had asked her directly. She apologized for not being more helpful, but Gibbs assured her that she had done enough—they'd get anything else the terrorists knew from interrogations in Guantanamo.

McGee didn't say much of anything, just made notes as Gibbs listened. The statement was difficult for Jordan, but Gibbs stuck to the facts so she didn't have to dwell on the pain.

Woody had left after the NCIS team had, at Jordan's request. She said she wanted some alone time, but Woody didn't think she was being entirely truthful. Nevertheless, he honored her wishes and spent some time in the cafeteria with the bad coffee.

When he entered her room, however, Jordan's mood hadn't improved. Even worse, her irritation seemed to be directed at him.

As he walked in and sat down on her bed, Jordan didn't even acknowledge his presence. Instead, she stared fixedly out of the window. There was a hardness in her eyes that Woody usually associated with stubbornness, but that didn't make sense in this situation.

"Hey," he said softly and reached out to stroke her hair. Jordan jerked away. He looked at her for a beat and then asked, "What's wrong?"

"Go away."

His forehead creased. "Jordan…talk to me, honey. What's going on?"

"I said, go away!"

This time Woody cupped Jordan's face with his hand and gently turned her head so she was looking at him. He didn't say anything, but spoke volumes with his eyes. Jordan challenged him right back. "Go away."

Woody's eyes never left hers. "No," he said simply. "I'm not leaving you."

His words triggered both their memories, and seemed to be exactly what Jordan needed to hear. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed, looking down at her hands. Woody folded her into his arms and waited for her to start talking.

"I hate this…I just feel…I feel…helpless." The last word was almost inaudible. Then she tensed. "I can't do anything for myself. I can't walk, or brush my hair…I need help to go to the bathroom…Whatever someone wants me to do, I have to just deal with it because I can't move."

There was anger in her voice, but there was also fear. Jordan would never directly admit to it, but that was at the heart of her feelings. Being unable to take care of herself was definitely infringing on her need to be independent. But fundamentally, what happened to her had scared her.

Woody hugged her tighter when he felt wetness on his shirt. "I know, Jordan," he said. "I've been there…I know that saying that it'll get better doesn't help. I'm afraid that there's nothing I can do—not about your casts. But I will be here; I won't leave you."

He emphasized his last words again, wanting to leave no doubts in Jordan's mind.

"I don't want to be taken care of," she said obstinately. Woody almost chuckled.

"Don't think of it as that," he said. "Think of it as me pampering the love of my life."

She didn't react at first, until he kissed the top of her head. "You can deal with me?" she asked.

This time Woody did chuckle. "Oh, yeah. I've had lots of practice."

There was a beat of silence, then another question. "You sure you want to deal with me?

"There's nothing in the world I'd rather do."

With that, Jordan finally relaxed against him and gave in to his pampering.