As always, thank you to everyone who has been reading and especially to those who have reviewed!

This is chapter fifteen, which means there is only the epilogue left before this story is finished. Almost done!

Fear Itself

Chapter 15

There was an immediate flurry of activity as chaos erupted.

Santana refused to let anyone move Woody away from the wall until the EMTs arrived with Claudia, so Walcott began to pace in front of them asking questions neither wanted to answer. Or could answer, for that matter.

"How did he get that thing in here?" she asked, infuriated. "How could this have happened?"

Woody glared up at her from the floor, his head starting to pound. He hoped it was all in his mind - the syringe had looked mostly full when he had pulled it out of his shoulder less than fifteen minutes ago - but he could swear he was starting to sweat, too. Was that even a symptom? He tried to listen to Jordan's voice, going down the list. He couldn't remember. The heavy door was propped open to let air circulate and he tilted his face toward the faint movement.

"We don't know, okay?" Santana snapped from one of the interrogation room chairs, her head propped up in her hand. "It all happened too fast. It sounded like he bent down first, so maybe he got it out of his sock or something? But really, lady, we don't know. Go ask him."

"But wasn't he searched before he was brought in? Surely he was!" Reneé threw her hands up in the air angrily. "If this happened because of a lapse in judgment, I'm going to make sure someone is fired."

"It's no one's fault!" the other woman shot back even though the statement wasn't directed at her. Just the threat against her fellow cops was enough to raise her hackles.

"Guys, stop." Woody's head lolled back against the wall again as he glanced over at them. The syringe was still held loosely in his hand, and he could feel the deadly weight of it even as he was afraid to put it on the floor where it could be stepped on. "I'm the one that's probably gonna die here, and I'd like to do it without you two arguing. Man, you really do sound like Jordan..."

All three of them froze when he said her name, locking eyes with one another. Walcott's face lost its hard edge and she let out a long sigh. "You two have been through too much for you to die now," she said softly, dropping into one of the remaining chairs. Her words surprised him, and Woody gave her a small smile in return.

"One of you needs to tell her," he pointed out.

"What?" Santana looked at him in panic, having forgotten about his other half amidst all the mayhem. "Why us? Why not you? She's a "kill the messenger" type, remember?"

"He's about to be carted off to the hospital," Walcott said bluntly. "He can't make a stop by the morgue on the way, now can he?" She set him with a hard stare, as though making sure that really wasn't in his plan. "Besides, Doctor Cavanaugh likes you, Detective Santana, more than she likes me. I'd say that's pretty obvious. I can call Garret to inform him of what happened and to make sure he keeps everyone out of her way for the next thirty minutes."

xXx

Santana stood in the lobby of the morgue for a full five minutes before she was able to convince herself to push through the double swinging doors to find Jordan. The woman's temper was legend, and she had never had it focused on her in the past. The doctor was also incredibly intelligent and rather manipulative when she wanted something and, even though Luisa had been given strict instructions not to let Jordan leave under any conditions...somehow she had a feeling that wasn't going to go over very well. Or maybe not at all.

Feeling her stomach start to constrict, she gently opened one of the doors and went inside. No one had told her yet what had happened, having designated that particular task to Santana, and so the halls were empty in an attempt to stay out of Jordan's way.

She found her in her office - her home away from home - and, as soon as their eyes met, Jordan had stood from the couch and was on her feet.

"What?" she asked immediately. "Luisa, what happened? Tell me."

"I..." But the other woman paused, suddenly unsure of what to say when Jordan's worried brown gaze flashed.

"Tell me!" Jordan all but yelled, trying not to panic now as she rushed to close her office door. "For the love of - did something happen to Woody? Is he hurt? Luisa!"

Santana shook her head, but then she nodded once. "Well, he's all right. I guess. He's in the hospital with Claudia for, um, treatment."

"Treatment for what?" she cried, not even the slightest bit ashamed at the alarm in her voice. Not Woody, was the only thought going through her mind. Not Woody. Not again.

"O'Malley somehow got a syringe by the guards and into the interrogation room. It was in his sock or something," Santana started to explain before noticing that Jordan didn't care about the little details right then. "He, uh, stabbed Hoyt with it in his shoulder. It didn't really inject anything, but the trace amounts on the needle were enough to worry Claudia so she had him admitted."

Jordan flew across the room and opened the bottom drawer of her desk to pull out her purse and keys. "Let's go."

"Go? Go where?"

"To the hospital. Come on." She was already halfway out the door before Santana reached out for her arm, and Jordan gave her a withering glare. "Don't. Don't even tell me I'm not allowed to leave. Because I am going to that hospital with or without your 'permission'."

"Jordan -"

"No!" She jerked her arm out of the other woman's grasp. "I assume he was brought to the hospital at Boston University? Their quarantine unit? I'll be trading one quarantine for another." Her voice lowered as she added, "I'm not going to leave him alone. You just try and stop me."

A charged silence fell for a tense few seconds before Luisa gave in, just like she knew she would. "Okay, fine. But I'm driving. That way no one can accuse you of trying to leave or something."

xXx

"Jordan!" Garret growled as soon as he saw her round the corner of the hallway in the hospital. He, Bug, and Walcott had been conversing in a small waiting area that had been turned into some kind of command post with laptops connected to both the morgue and the CDC. "What the hell are you doing here?" His gaze immediately flicked to Santana, who shrugged helplessly.

"Where is he?" Jordan asked instead, not even bothering to answer his question. "Garret, where is he!"

Her boss set down the pad of paper he had been reading over and came to put a hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Jordan. Claudia has him in a private room back here. She had to sedate him; some of the more intense medications were making him ill."

"So he really did get a dose of that...of the bacteria?" She had begun to shake from nerves and adrenaline, but she refused to let anyone guide her to a chair. Everyone had been so worried about her; this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Trace amounts, really just what was on the tip of that needle," Garret told her soothingly. "Claudia is just being careful. And since he had already been on the antibacterials to begin with, the chances he'll contract anything are slim to none. Come on, you know that."

"I wanna see him. Now."

"Jo -"

"Now!" she snapped, not caring to hold her temper back any longer when it looked like they were going to be kept apart. "Show me his room or I'll find it myself."

"Bug, I'll be right back. Thank you, Luisa." He turned to Jordan then, his face holding all the annoyance he wouldn't voice. "Come this way."

Jordan flashed Santana a small, thankful smile before following Garret down the hall and past a row of closed doors. Most of the rooms were empty, but it was obvious this floor had been designated a temporary Y. pestis quarantine unit. She spotted only three masked nurses wearing bright yellow paper robes at the station further down before her boss stopped her outside one of the rooms. "Here. Don't leave this area without a mask. Or better yet? Don't leave, period."

"Whatever."

"Jordan, I'm serious. You're still at risk, especially here."

"And I don't care," she hissed angrily. "All I want is to be with Woody, and right now you're blocking me from getting to him. What do you think is going to happen to you in about three seconds? One...two..."

Finally he nodded and briskly walked away without another word so she could enter the room.

Claudia looked up from Woody's chart, startled when the door quietly opened, but she smiled widely when she saw who it was. "Well, hey there," she said softly. "I'm surprised to see you, though I guess I shouldn't be. It's safe enough."

"How is he?" Jordan asked, reaching wordlessly for the chart. The other doctor gave it to her without question, and she skimmed over the list of medications currently swimming through his system. No wonder he had started feeling sick.

"Just fine. Out cold right now, but he keeps coming around every thirty minutes or so." She grinned again, this one sly as she watched her read the chart. "He asks for you every time."

The M.E. didn't know how to respond to that, so she just handed the file back and pulled a chair close to the bed so she could cover his hand with hers. Memories began to flood back and she blinked them away when Claudia touched her shoulder and whispered, "I'll be out in the lobby with everyone else. Just dial the nurse's station if you need anything."

Jordan nodded, suddenly finding herself in silence broken only by the beeping of monitors as the doctor left. "I'm here, Woody," she murmured.

As she stared down at him, she realized she had been so preoccupied with herself and her own predicament the last few days that she had given no thought to what she would do if she had lost him rather than the scenario she had been playing in her head, of him losing her. There was very little threat of that now, she knew, but it was still a startling brush with reality. Their jobs - his job, especially - put them at risk every day. The ring on her finger caught the stale hospital light. A physical reminder of their connection, as if they needed one. She had never felt more connected to another living person before, and she had always felt that with him despite how she had tried to fight it.

Quite suddenly, she heard him make a small sound, almost a moan, and her eyes darted to his face just in time to see his flutter open and look around blearily. "Jo...?"

"I'm here," she repeated, picking up his hand and encasing it with hers. "I'm right here."

"Good." His eyes slid closed again and his breathing evened out. But then he inhaled somewhat sharply, his mind trying to work. His words came out slurred when he finally found them. "Wai' a min't. Why're you here? Not sup's'd to be here."

Jordan smiled and brought his encompassed hand up to her lips so he could feel it on his fingers. "I came here to be with you, hon. Had to make a fight of it, though."

"Mhmm."

"Go back to sleep, Woody," she told him gently, replacing his hand on the mattress. "I'll still be here when you wake up. Maybe I can even take you home. That would be nice, huh?"

He groggily shook his head. "No, too small. I keep breakin' things."

"What?" Jordan looked at him in confusion, not a clue what he was talking about.

"I can't fi' in there. Your apar'men'," he tried to explain, obviously not fully aware of what he was saying and having a very difficult time saying it at all. "That figur'ne you though' fell behin' the dresser - I bro' it. The vase, too. And two plates."

"Oh, hey, that's okay," she told him, holding back a burst of laughter.

"Can we jus' buy a house?"

"I...what?" That took her off guard and her laughter faded a little. She had known it was coming, but now? Okay, so maybe he was a bit more aware of what he was doing after all. Or maybe he was far more out of touch than she had initially thought. "A, um, a house?"

"Uh-huh."

She had already planned her answer to this, but she had expected the question to come over some kind of...dinner or something. At least on the couch, or maybe in bed. This was not what she had been expecting. At all. Just how drugged was he? Her planned answer didn't work in this situation. So instead she just squeezed his hand. "Sure, Woody. Let's buy a house."

"Cool." His smile was woozy and his eyes were still closed, but then that smile evened out again with his breaths. "Am I gonna rem'mber any o' this la'er?"

Jordan chucked and lowered her head to rest against his chest. "No, probably not."

"Then, hy'othe'cally..." His voice faded a bit as he tried to understand what he had just said, and she grinned at how horribly that word had come out. "If I as'ed you to marry me, woul' you say yes?"

She fell into a stunned silence at that one, the grin fading quickly from her lips. Her head was still on his chest and she could hear the even beating of his heart under her ear - not to mention through the monitor. Not a hint of a waver or increased rates that would come with nerves. He really had no idea of the impact of the question he had just asked. This wasn't a proposal, right? In fact, her earlier observation was likely very true; he probably wouldn't remember any of this once the drugs wore off. Besides, her silence wasn't bothering him at all, a very un-Woody-like trait when it came to such loaded questions.

Finally, she sat back and touched her hand to his warmed cheek. His eyes were still closed, but he hadn't dropped off to sleep yet. "Yeah," she whispered, suddenly not afraid to say what she was really feeling in her heart. "I'd say yes." She smiled again, this one large and genuinely happy. "But no diamonds, okay? I just want a plain band, one I can wear while I work. Nothing fancy."

"...Mkay."

He was gone again a few seconds later, the sedative too much to fight.

"But," she added in a murmur she knew he couldn't hear as she stroked his forehead. "If you do get me a diamond, the marquis cut is my favorite."

There was a soft knock at the door, and Jordan glanced over her shoulder to see Santana quietly come inside. "Hey," she said softly, her eyes meeting the doctor's before falling down to her unconscious partner. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Jordan affirmed, her heart still tight but doing a fair job at hiding it. "He's fine. Just a little loopy when he's not passed out. Thanks. For…you know. Not trying to keep me at the morgue like Garret would have done."

The detective shrugged. "I knew it wouldn't work, no matter what they tried to tell me. We've solved the case, if you want to see the file or anything."

She looked again and saw this time that the other woman was holding a bulky folder in her arm, finally ready to close. "O'Malley was arrested?" After she received a silent nod, she continued with, "That's all I really need. Although…" She thought for a moment, her mind going back to the first body they found, the Jane Doe later identified as Katie Andrews. "Katie, the woman found in the park. Why was she there, covered in flowers like that?"

"Oh, that." Luisa sighed and pulled another chair up to Jordan's side, placing the heavy file on a table. "After the blood tests and everything confirmed her COD was the, um, the bacteria, we called her family back in. Her brother, who had lived with her, was showing symptoms, too. Her mentally ill brother. He was admitted here late last night, I think, and not long after his caregiver came to us with an admission that he gave to her. He found his sister dead in her bed and brought her body to the park because she loved it there so much. Covered her in flowers out of respect. He didn't know what he was doing wasn't right." She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Walcott isn't pressing charges."

"Good. Poor guy," Jordan added softly, running her thumb over the back of Woody's hand. "Having your whole life upturned like that in an instant. He must have been so confused."

"Claudia says he still keeps asking when his sister is going to come see him. It's heartbreaking."

"And O'Malley? What was he charged with?"

"I had already left to come get you when Walcott filed, but from what I heard? A lot, including a handful of first-degree murder charges, as well as conspiracy to commit murder and first-degree assault for what he did to Hoyt. He's going away for a really long time."

Jordan didn't respond, instead taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long, low sigh, her eyes never leaving Woody's calm face. It was over.