As always, thank you to all of my readers and everyone who has reviewed! I've nearly finished writing this one - not including editing - and it's looking to be about sixteen chapters. So we're halfway done!

Fear Itself

Chapter 9

"There are no open research projects going on right now through the hospital where these guys worked dealing with the Plague," Woody said later that day in the conference room. Everyone was crowded in there, eager to find out what he had learned. Unfortunately it wasn't much. "None are in the hearing stage either. Also, there are five board members – three of whom are already in your crypt. The other two are on lockdown at the hospital now, but one of them is already sick, a Miles Nelson. He's not looking good. The second, Brittany Hutchings, has been on vacation for the last month; they're holding her just in case."

"What about vaccinations?" Jordan asked, leaning forward and trying to see his notebook. "Flu, maybe?"

Woody gave her a small grin, one she didn't see, as she was too caught up in trying to see what he had already written down. "About five days ago, a pharmacist from Walgreens came by with a group of techs to give everyone on staff the flu vaccine – including four of the board members, except Hutchings since she wasn't here."

"That fits," Claudia murmured from where she was leaning against the doorway. "The incubation period is two to six days. It would explain why they didn't all die at the same time, or all show symptoms at once."

"But one of the techs? Or the pharmacist?" Jordan pursed her lips. "Why? And why only the board members and not the rest of the hospital staff? What was the point?"

The blond woman chuckled quietly. "Are you always this inquisitive on your cases?"

"This is rather tame, as far as Jordan's line of questioning goes," Nigel piped up from across the table. Jordan kicked at him, but he just gave her a playful scowl. "She plays the detective more often than not." Before she could protest, he added, "That's what makes her so good at her job. Now that this little devil is on his tail, our Black Plague killer doesn't stand a chance."

She immediately lowered her eyes. "We'll see."

Woody narrowed his eyebrows at that, but he pulled out another piece of paper from his small stack and didn't comment on her words. "The pharmacy gave me a list of all the techs there that day; they're being rounded up and brought over to the precinct now. I guess other than some kind of magic confession there won't be any trace evidence to connect anyone to these deadly injections?"

Nigel shook his head. "Sorry, mate. Unless the person is dim, the syringes are long gone."

"Could I get one of you to come with me? Help me tell if someone is sick or showing any symptoms?"

"I'll do it," Bug volunteered, speaking up for the first time.

"Great. I'll find you when I get the call."

Jordan frowned, feeling yet again the weight of the quarantine. She knew Woody wanted her to be the one to join him, since now that their cases had crossed they could work together again without consequence. But she still couldn't leave; probably not for a while yet, with these startling developments. Garret touched her shoulder from behind, and she forced her breath out slowly.

"Okay!" Nigel clapped his hands together once and stood from the table. "Who wants to go get some lunch?" The room cleared out pretty quickly then, Bug, Claudia, and Kate following him out as they decided where they wanted to go.

Woody gathered up his papers and slid them into the police file, watching Jordan in his peripheral vision. She hadn't moved yet, and Garret had taken the vacated chair beside hers. The detective was still incredibly worried about her, especially because she hadn't opened up to him since she had been locked up in here two days ago. There was an odd glint in her eyes that he only saw when she was undergoing emotional turmoil and didn't know what to do to stop herself from falling. He also knew, though, that if he pushed her, even if they both knew it was only to help, she would shut down.

"Are you hungry, Jordan?" Garret asked, interrupting Woody's thoughts. "I can ask them to bring something back for you."

She shook her head and gave them both a half-hearted smile. "Not really. I've, um, got a headache."

The chief nodded, taking her wrist and giving it a quick squeeze before getting to his feet. "All right. I'll be in my office if you need anything. Paperwork calls."

The room was empty then, save Woody and Jordan. He glanced over at her and was somewhat surprised to see her watching him. "Is one of those mine?" she asked, indicating another file identical to the one he had just closed.

"Oh, yeah." He slid it toward her, the police crest upward, then quietly asked, "How are you doing?"

"Fine." She bit her lip, now studying the folder on the shining tabletop and expertly avoiding his gaze.

"Jo…" Woody got out of his chair and knelt on the floor beside her, taking her hands and encasing them in both of his. She met his eyes again, startled. "I'm worried about you, Jordan. I'm not going to force you to talk to me or anything, but I just…I love you. Okay?"

Garret's words from the day before – he's scared of losing you and scared that you're pulling away for reasons he can't understand because you're not talking to him – came to the forefront of her mind and stayed there. She extracted one of her hands and pressed it to Woody's cheek, running her thumb over his lips. "Woody, I -"

But his cell phone chose that second to ring. He pulled it out and saw with dismay that it was Santana.

"Answer it," Jordan urged before he could let the call go to voicemail. "It's important."

"So is this," he argued gently, looking up at her with wide eyes as she dropped her hand from his face. He wanted to make a desperate grab for her fingers even as she put her wall back up.

"People's lives are at stake. Answer it."

He almost retorted that her life was at stake, too, but the moment had passed. He flipped the phone open. "Hoyt." After a few seconds, he nodded and hung up again. "Guess Bug is going to have to cut his lunch short. All of the techs from the pharmacy have been brought in and are ready for questioning. Will you…will you be okay here?"

"Of course. Go find this bastard."

Woody nodded and started to stand, then paused and leaned down to give her a fiercely passionate kiss. It caught her off guard at first, but a heartbeat later she responded and wrapped her arms up around his neck. The position was uncomfortable, with her still sitting, and he started to pull away after a minute but then he went back for one more, unable to resist. She held his head in place that time, her fingers curling in his hair and wordlessly urging him to briefly deepen the kiss.

Another minute passed, and he finally pulled himself away again and pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll be here." She smiled wryly, but there was more warmth to it than there had been in a while. "I love you, too."

He stood up and started to smooth out a few wrinkles in his shirt before catching sight of Nigel and Bug in the hallway, staring in through the windows open-mouthed. The door was open, too. Talk about a lack of privacy. Woody's face flamed. "We, uh, have an audience."

"Rats looking for a show," she muttered, getting to her feet as well and rolling her eyes toward the people in the hall. "I'll see you later."

"I wish it was you coming with me." He raised her chin for one last – much more chaste – kiss, and left the conference room with his file tucked under his arm. "What are you guys doing?" he asked as soon as he was out in the hallway.

Nigel and Bug exchanged a quick glance. "We were going to offer to bring you both some food," the criminologist supplied, at least having the decency to look bashful despite his next words. "You two sure are cozy, aren't you?"

Woody ignored him, trying to fight the fire out of his face. "Bug, I just got the call that everyone has been rounded up at the precinct. Do you need to get anything or can we go ahead and leave?"

"I'll meet you there," the M.E. answered, nodding to Nigel and turning to the elevators.

Woody started to follow him, but the other man reached out and grabbed his arm. "Just a sec, mate. That number you asked me to run down? I was able to track it and find one that was active." He handed him a folded slip of paper. "I haven't called it, but it's live."

"Thanks, Nigel."

xXx

Down in his car, Woody unfolded the paper and stared at it for a long few seconds. It had an area code he didn't recognize. Bug had taken one of the morgue-issued SUVs on to the precinct to meet Santana, who had already started the interviews. He had a few minutes before he had to join them.

Max would recognize his number so it was doubtful he would answer, but just the fact that Jordan was asking for her father was making him anxious. What was he supposed to say?

Deciding to get the call over with, Woody flipped his phone open and dialed the number. The other line picked up, then rang a handful of times before it went to an automated voicemail.

"Max, it's Woody Hoyt." He paused, suddenly unsure of what to say and wondering if her father would even keep listening to the message at that point. Unlikely. "Look. I'm sure you don't want to talk to me. But, well... Your daughter needs you right now. So whether you come home or just give her a call, at least give her the chance to talk with you again before..." He stopped himself. That was for her to explain, not him. Instead, he went with her idea of a threat, even if he wasn't very good at it. "Jordan asked me to find you for her, and you know I will go to the ends of the earth for that woman. So just make everyone's lives easier, okay? I, uh, hope you're doing well." He hung up with that, feeling dumb. Some message.

xXx

"It was just a flu vaccine!"

That was what the two detectives heard over and over all afternoon. Woody leaned over his desk and dropped his head into his heads, frustrated. "What now?"

"Bank statements?" Santana suggested from the chair across from his.

"We'd need a subpoena for those," he said miserably. "What would we be looking for?"

The young woman shrugged thoughtfully, glancing back over one of the transcripts. "Maybe someone paid one of them off? I dunno. But look at this." She handed him the paper. "This guy's story seems awfully rigid. Everyone else's was pretty flexible, time-wise, to handle the huge amount of people they had have to seen. Want me to go over his background?"

"I guess it's a place to start. Are there any others?"

xXx

Jordan stayed in the conference room for a while longer, staring listlessly out the window at the bustling street below. She had no idea what to do with herself now. Nigel didn't need her help, and neither did Claudia. Garret and Kate were doing paperwork. She had no cases to catch up on. Not to mention there was a throbbing headache inching its way in and she was feeling remarkably lightheaded. She wanted to go home; it had been a long time since her Pearle Street apartment had had such a siren call, and today she would have given just about anything to leave these horrible confines and sink into her bed.

She understood why she had to stay here, but that didn't make this any easier. There was no telling how long she would be stuck now, not since it had become apparent that the bacteria was man-made. She'd probably go stir-crazy before she was released. It was almost worse than being in jail.

Well, no, that's not true, she told herself, trying once again to keep calm. At least this time I can be with my friends. And it's for an actual reason.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she turned away from the window and left the room with the intention of returning to her office and possibly taking a nap. As she was walking down the hall, though, a wave of dizziness hit and she wavered haltingly, throwing her hand out to the wall to steady herself. But then her left leg buckled. All she had to reach for was a nearby potted tree, but it was not nearly strong enough to support her weight. Instead it went tumbling to the ground with her, and she lay in a heap on the floor surrounded by broken ceramic, leaves, and potting soil.