Sorry for the late update, once again. I'm back on track now. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Enjoy!:-)

Chapter Thirteen: Home

Jordan sat on her bed, legs dangling, fidgeting with her recently-donned street clothes. Every few seconds she shot the wheelchair next to her a look that, had she had the power, would have sent it up in flames.

Woody appeared out of her bathroom, duffle bag in his hands. He looked up just in time to notice one of her murderous stares. He set the bag down and took a seat next to her. Softly he kissed her temple and took her good hand in his.

"You ready to go?" he asked gently. She looked up at him. Though no words were spoken, he read her face loud and clear—If you put me in that thing, I will kill you. He squeezed her hand. "How else are you going to get out of here?"

"Walk." Her tone was sharp.

Woody bit back both a laugh and a groan. "Not with two broken ankles, sweetheart." He reached up and ran a hand through her hair. "I could always carry you."

Jordan shook her head; that idea wasn't any better than the wheelchair.

"Well, then the only other option is to stay here for the next five weeks until your casts come off," he replied. Jordan shut her eyes and groaned. "Come one," he added, "It will only be a few minutes…it doesn't mean you're weak. It just means that your body needs to heal—it's a bit slower than your pride." His tone wasn't accusatory, or sarcastic. It was loving. Jordan sagged against him, a silent acknowledgement of his words.

Carefully, as if she was a china doll, Woody lifted Jordan up and sat her in the wheelchair. She tensed again, but didn't protest. He placed the duffle bag on Jordan's lap. She quickly clutched it to her chest, as if to shield herself.

Woody moved behind her and began to push the chair towards the door. Jordan's voice made him stop instantly. "Wait."

"What is it?"

Jordan swallowed and looked down. "Who is out there?"

Woody came around to the front. "Just Nigel. He's getting all the paperwork in order for you."

"Not Tony? Or anyone else?"

Woody cupped her chin and pulled her face up until she was looking at him. "Why does Tony bother you so much?"

Jordan shrugged, but then looked away. "It's just…it's kind of the same reason why I didn't want to talk to you. Tony…he's all macho, you know?"

Woody nodded. Yeah, he knew.

"I know he was looking at me before. I just don't want him to see me now because I'm not…I don't look like I did. I don't want him to give me that look—like suddenly I'm not the same person." She sighed.

Woody stroked her hair again. "You look fine…you're beautiful."

Jordan sighed again. "It's different with you; you love me. And you won't leave me alone anyway. I just don't like being…pitied. Gibbs and McGee, they're less…threatening, I guess. Tony is a flirt…and I don't want to feel…like I'm not good enough." Her face scrunched up; she knew it sounded lame.

The next thing she felt was Woody's lips gently touching hers. His kisses were so gentle, as were his reassurances that what Tony thought didn't matter—she was beautiful to him and nothing could change that. In spite of her feelings, Jordan couldn't help but believe him, even if only for a moment.

When they finally parted, Woody took his place behind the wheelchair once again. "Ready now?"

Despite sitting down the whole time, the long ride home was exhausting for Jordan. Nigel had surrendered the front seat for her, but she almost wished she was in the back. At least then she could have lain down, and maybe Woody wouldn't have felt the need to constantly ask her if she was all right.

With no wheelchair present this time, Woody's only choice was to carry Jordan up to her apartment. At this point, Jordan was just too tired to complain.

Once they were inside, Woody made straight for the bed. He artfully turned down the covers with Jordan still in his arms. He was just ready to put her in it when she stopped him.

"I can't."

Woody stopped, confused. "Why not? Sweetheart, you're worn out."

"But Woody…I'm all dirty…I haven't showered since before…everything," she explained.

Woody thought about it. The nurses had cleaned her wounds, but Jordan was right. There had been no place for her to really clean up.

"Uh…okay…we'll have to avoid your casts, though," he said. Turning around, he took Jordan into the bathroom. Tenderly he helped her bathe, making sure not to exacerbate any of her injuries. Once her hair was nearly dry, Woody carried her back to her bedroom and this time tucked her into bed without a problem.

"Are you staying?" she asked after he made sure she was comfortable.

"If you want me to," he replied. Jordan nodded. Woody kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed.

Once he was under the covers, Jordan snuggled up to him and laid her head on his chest. Woody wrapped his arms around her protectively. He talked to her idly for a while, until he realized that she was already asleep.

It was much harder for Woody to let himself go. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, simply content to stroke Jordan's hair and rub her back. After an hour, his eyes became too heavy and he slowly joined her in slumber.