Broken Roots
Chapter Eight: Snapped Twigs
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,051
Disclaimer: I own Crossing Jordan. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan. Okay, I can, but only season 1.
Summary: Sins of the father are passed onto the son. Sins of the mother to the daughter. And somewhere in the middle of all of that lies the truth.
Pairing: Woody/Jordan (kind of sort of... ok...eventually :) )

Author's Note: I honestly (ooh, um... never mind) but I didn't intend to leave this so long after that last, rather brutal chapter. Sorry. Been down for the count the last few days. Can't say as I'm really back but at least I wrote this.

Snapped Twigs

"Suspicious," Woody agreed quietly. "Doesn't make it true, doesn't prove anything."

"You're a right spoil sport, you know that, Woodrow?" Nigel demanded, watching the other man carefully. They'd all wanted to wrap this up in a nice, tidy package, and it did not seem like that would be the case. They weren't going to finish this tonight, not really, and the longer it went on, the worse Woody looked. Sick to his stomach, sick to his heart, and though Cal had admitted his mistake and was now learning the truth, it was not as helpful as they had hoped. Especially for Jordan. Now, she was doing her best, holding tight to him and taking care of him, but would any of this be enough?

"Nigel, don't forget that I've had a lot longer to deal with my father's death than you have," Woody said, reaching for a drink, this time one without alcohol. The choice was surprising, but admirable. "After it happened, I was lost. I was trying to hold everything together for Cal, because Dad was lingering on in the hospital, and our uncle hadn't come yet, and in the back of my head was this fear that the man from Milwaukee would come and take us... So, I listened; I listened to everyone, everything. I had to know, had to plan. If that man was going to get us, I had to find a way to escape him..."

Woody shuddered, and Nigel imagined that the prospects facing the younger version of the man before them had been dismal, at best. The idea of being in the hands of a monster, or trying to survive on his own, supporting his brother. Or foster care. The "system," the ever-so-flawed system. If a child like Woody had been placed into that failed bureaucracy, it would truly have taken everything that he had left. And then none of them, this hodge-podge family they'd created, would know him.

Nigel cleared his throat. "Okay, granting your expertise, then, let us move on to the fake id again. You said it disappeared. How could that happen?"

"Are we going to start conspiracy theories now?" Dr. Macy asked. "That your 'punk' had some sort of link to the sheriff's department and used that to bury the evidence that he was involved in this killing?"

"Maybe," Nigel conceded. "Someone made that evidence disappear, after all. It didn't walk out on its own. Could have been a mis-file, I suppose, but I'm assuming that Woody thought of that already, didn't you?"

"Yes," Woody answered, leaning against Jordan again. "So, a conspiracy, then? Someone in the department in league a punk? That doesn't make sense. And it doesn't fit. Annie's father was a good man. He wouldn't have done that. He never thought I was good enough for his daughter, but he was friends with my dad. He wouldn't have killed him."

"You think so?" Max asked quietly. "You said he was a good man. But they were friends. So, either he was involved in your dad's sideline, or he'd put a stop to it. You can't tell me that man spent years as your father's friend and never suspected anything."

"He was the sheriff," Woody shook his head. "He could have arrested my father if he knew, and if he was a part of it... I would have known. He wasn't."

"Maybe this conspiracy is simpler than you think," Jordan said softly. "Okay, so our punk is on record as just your typical loser. Deadbeat parents, high school drop out, the works. But what if that was just the act? What if that was the fake id?"

"What, you mean, the punk was pretending to be the punk?"

"Yes," Jordan answered with a grin. She put her hands on the side of Woody's face so that he was looking at her. "He wasn't local, right, this punk? And why that convenience store, of all places?"

"Liquor store," Woody corrected. "I don't know, Jordan. Don't ask me to think because I can't any more. I've tried. I'm done."

"Because he wouldn't be recognized then!" Nigel exclaimed. "Oh, you're brilliant, love! We're not really chasing a punk at all. No, and that's what makes it all so simple in the end, doesn't it? I need my computer, and that picture and I think I'll have what we're looking for."

"What?" Cal demanded. "What will you have?"

"Proof. The identity of your father's killer once and for all."

Woody looked at the computer screen, drinking from the cup, having gone back to the alcohol again. He had tried to stop after the first two, and he'd really wanted to, but the water or soda wasn't enough when all of this was going on. He felt like he was drowning in the memories, in the horror that had been his childhood. All this ideas—conspiracies—theories being tossed around, making his head spin, and he couldn't deal with it anymore. He wanted to run from the room rather than face Cal, but he'd stayed and faced his brother, answered the worst accusations of his life, and now he was spent. Empty of energy and strength. He didn't have anything left.

"That should be coffee," Macy observed, moving that he should stand next to him.

Woody smiled a little as he looked down at the cup. "Coffee wouldn't keep me on my feet, either. I don't know what I'm doing. I know this is supposed to solve it... I just don't know if I can see it through."

"Hang in there, Woody," Macy said, touching his shoulder. He flinched and pulled away. Old, bad habit that he couldn't seem to stop. Well, no, this wasn't that old a habit, and he wasn't going to call it a bad habit. It was a reflex, born of fear, but it wasn't necessarily bad.

"Here we go, ladies and gentlemen, hold your applause until the end, and with a drum roll, please," Nigel began, clapping his hands together. "I give you our 'punk,' known then as Jason Rivers. And now, our punk has grown up, taking on the mantle of the family business, the family name, and even the family's political seat, one Gene Perry of Wisconsin."

"That's him?" Cal asked, his voice full of disbelief. "Oh, that can't be him. He's too... Too..."

"He's full of it, that's what he is," Max said, putting it succinctly. "Yeah, there's one prize right there. That's one hell of a program you've got, Nigel. Woody, Cal, do you recognize him? Is that really the man accused of killing your father?"

Cal frowned. "I don't... I don't remember. Woody didn't let me see much. He didn't. Always saving me, Woody was. Protecting me. And he was trying to tell me it would be okay somehow, and I wanted to know how... Then our uncle came and said we couldn't go to the trial. Said to stay home, that it was better that way. Guess it was. Wasn't like that trial proved anything."

"Oh, it proved a few things," Bug disagreed. "Just not at the time. It proved that the state didn't look hard enough, even with a good man as the sheriff. It means that Perry's money bought a few people back then and is probably still buying people today."

"But we're not going to let him keep doing that, are we?" Lily asked, shifting the midget in her arms. "We're going to stop him, right?"

"We are, yes," Nigel insisted. He turned with a smile. "I've already booked us a flight. We leave in... oh, an hour? Time to pack our bags!"

"Please tell me that those tickets were first class," Macy muttered under his breath. Woody just shook his head and went back for another drink.

"I mean it, you can't go in there!" the secretary protested uselessly. Jordan just smiled at her as she was pulled along by Woody's hand. A few hours ago, he'd been completely drained and looking to drown himself in alcohol again, and now, a short nap on a plane and a pot of coffee later, he was marching with a grim determination past the doors and staff of one Gene Perry, right into the man's office, just like the impulsive cop that she had wrapped around her finger for so many years. She liked this. She really liked this. It was like everything was coming together again.

"We won't be long, love," Nigel called back over his shoulder. "Just have to have a little chat with an old acquaintance, and when we do, then we'll be off."

"Nigel, shut up," Garret warned. They were all technically breaking and entering, and the police were bound to be called, but that was okay with Jordan because she wanted an audience for their accusations. Maybe they had little proof, just the picture that Nigel had aged, but that was just the start. Because she had a feeling that someone would make the classic villain mistake.

"I'll have you all arrested and sued for this," Gene Perry said, rising from his desk. He looked every bit the millionaire playboy he was. It was hard to think of him as someone who would rob a liquor store and kill a deputy. But he was. It didn't matter how much money was in that suit, how well groomed he was, or if that hair piece was real or not. No, this man was not what he seemed.

"I don't have anything worth taking," Woody said coldly. "Though I imagine you would know that by now. You're a careful man these days, aren't you, Perry? Or should it be Rivers? Rivers was more your true self, wasn't he? You away from Daddy's money and influence. The spoiled kid turned punk... Fitting, really."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Perry shook his head. "You're deluded, and I want you out of my home this minute."

Woody shook his head. "No, you don't. Because you have been sitting on this for years. And what is the fun of getting away with something if no one knows about it? Oh, sure, your father knew, but that wasn't enough because he never approved. But someone who could appreciate it, that's what you've been waiting for all this time. And now you have it. Someone who appreciates what you did."

Cal's mouth dropped open on that one, and Jordan sighed. Cal really didn't know his brother, not in any pretense, not the one he'd worn for years or the one he'd fallen into after regaining his memories. No, she didn't think Cal would ever understand Woody again. Not that he had before, not really.

"You? And what could you possibly appreciate about me or anything I've done?" Perry sneered over at Woody, who smiled again.

"Well, the undeniable truth is that you did me a favor," Woody told him. "Cal doesn't understand that yet, maybe he never will, but I do. I know what I was suffering, and you freed me from it when you killed him. So, I suppose I should say, I owe you for that."

Perry laughed. "You think I don't know what you're doing? I'm not about to confess to anything."

"You don't have to," Woody said, still using that patronizing smile. It was driving the other man nuts, and they could all see it. Jordan couldn't stop smiling herself. He was handling this masterfully. She was so incredibly proud of him right now. And she was going to tell him that later. Tell him and show him.

"That's what you came for, isn't it? To get me on tape, saying I did what you think I did," Perry said, shaking his head. "I'm not a fool."

"Oh, no, you're not. You've got money, and you think that it will protect you," Woody told him. He looked at his friends—his family, if he would only accept that now—and grinned. "It won't. The end is coming. Whether you go down for a bribe or murder, your time is done. It's over. I just came to give you notice, that's all."

Perry sputtered indignantly as Woody led them out of the room. Nigel clapped Woody on the back. "Nicely done, Woodrow. Someone's getting laid tonight."