As with the rest of the CJ masses, I was extremely frustrated by the season finale. I want to give Jordan and Woody a good kick in the rear right now…in the meantime, this lovely little ditty popped into my head. Believe it or not, it was inspired by a Jim Hensen song from one of the Muppet movies, so thanks going out there.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff… if I did, I would be able to pay my own way through college right now.

Please R&R... you can be honest, I'm an actress, I'm used to criticism :)

The hum of the Boston morgue barely phased Nigel Townsend as he stood leaning against the wall with one shoulder, his arms crossed in frustration across his chest. People walked briskly around him, handing over files, exchanging information, telephones were ringing and the sound of keyboards clicking away was almost nonstop. The late afternoon sun was starting to perform a greenhouse effect through the building's windows and reflected off of the polished floors. Yet, through all this, Nigel remained focused on one thing: the figure of Jordan Cavanaugh poised resolutely at her desk, doing the same thing she had been doing for nearly two weeks straight. Ever since Woody's trip to the hospital and Garret's voluntary exit from the morgue staff, Jordan had arrived at the office well before any of the regular staff, sat in her office all day working on file after file to figure out how to save Garret's reputation, stayed until the last person had gone home late at night and had to be nearly forced out by the night staff. And although he had no proof, Nigel was pretty sure Jordan was staying up most nights plugging away at her attempts to help Garret get his position back without any complications. And perhaps sleep would not come for her at all thanks to the outlandish behavior of a certain detective.

If it had not been for the fact that Woody was in severe condition, Nigel would have gone straight over to the hospital and beat the living daylight out of the man right in front of God and everyone. He had inadvertently found out what had passed between the two when he and Lily had walked in on Jordan in the break room standing with the coffee pot poised half way to her cup, crying with abandon. It wasn't hard to convince her to tell them what had happened. This was two days after the shooting. Jordan had refused to speak of Woody since. 'If he wants me out of his life,' she had said vindictively, 'then I'm out.' Nigel knew better than to believe that Jordan was willing to let go of the situation that easily, but Lily had warned him to let Jordan take things at her own pace before trying to intervene. Well, Jordan had been taking things at her own pace for two weeks now, and that pace consisted of desk work and nothing else. Nigel was just about ready to start some intervention. He didn't care so much about Woody as he did about Jordan needing to have some closure in order to move on in her life. And he had just received a phone call that might just allow that.

Resolving to at least get her to leave the office on business that didn't consist of her crusade for justice, Nigel pushed away from the wall and walked firmly towards her door. He knocked twice and entered before waiting for a response. Jordan stopped what she was doing and looked up at him with some surprise. He strode over to her desk and placed his hands on the edge, leaning over to stare at her.

"Jordan, this is getting ridiculous," he told her. "You have got to get out of this office for a little while and lead some semblance of a life."

Jordan closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. She had known this was coming from someone eventually. She had been skirting around this very conversation with Nigel for days. Placing her pen down on the desk, she folded her hands and stared right back.

"Nigel, this place is my life. And someone waltzed in here and screwed up what I have come to rely on. Getting Garret back in here is the best thing that I can be doing right now."

"We all want Macy back, Jordan," Nigel tried to pacify her. "But you can't keep dragging yourself through these horrendously long days. Exhausting yourself will not help Dr. Macy any faster. You need to get out for a while to clear your head," he tried to sound resolute and comforting at the same time, hoping to strike some kind of a chord with her.

"Nigel, I can't. Everything and everyone I love…" her voice faltered slightly before she could continue. "It's all here," she finished quietly.

She looked down quickly and Nigel watched her nervously trace the edge of her desk with her fingers. He noticed that her nails looked as though they had been chewed viciously, a habit he knew Jordan turned to when extremely stressed. His heart went out to this woman who was trying desperately to hold the only family she had together, knowing full well that it was falling apart at the seams even as she tried. But this had to stop or she would fall apart along with it. Nigel took a deep breath before proceeding to tell her what he wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"Woody's been taken out of the ICU," he said matter-of-factly.

Jordan didn't move. At the mention of the detective's name, her heart had raced and she felt heat rise up into her face. It was a combination of love and depression that hit her whenever someone mentioned him now. For she did love him. She had realized that fact the second the voice on her phone had told her he had been shot. Except it was too little too late. His male ego had been shattered by her sudden profession of devotion. He never wanted to see her again.

"The doctors say he has a good chance of walking again, now that they've assessed the situation more thoroughly," Nigel went on, interrupting her thoughts. He knew this was hard for her to hear, but it was something she needed to know. Better to hear it from him than some random cop who came into the morgue to spread the news. He reached into his pocket and took out a slip of paper. Placing it down in front of her, he said, "This is where he was transferred to. No one expects you to go…and deservedly so. Just thought you might like the information."

With that, he turned and walked out of her office, shutting the heavy door behind him. He knew it would be best to tell her the truth flat out and not keep anything from her. Goodness knows she has been lied to enough in her life. Besides, this way it left the decision entirely up to her, something that might make her more inclined to consider making the visit.

Jordan stared at the white slip of paper sitting inches from her hands. Nigel's neat script tripped across it, giving her all the information she needed to know in order to get in touch with Woody. Her mind and her heart had been waging a massive war over whether or not it was a good idea to try to make amends. Her heart ached to convince him that it was a terrible mistake and to have another go at the whole relationship. But then her mind screamed at her that holding a bitter grudge would be far more satisfying. And a lot less painful in the case that he still refused to talk to her. Gently picking up the paper, she ran her finger over the words, hoping that maybe some definitive feeling would overwhelm her to help her decide one way or the other. Feeling nothing besides the smooth paper, Jordan finally decided that taking a walk outside might help her clear her mind. She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

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The early summer sun beat down onto the city of Boston and warmed the streets. Already, the shade from the large, lush trees was a blessing to those making their way down the sidewalks. A fair amount of people bustled down the street around Jordan, not quite the five o'clock rush, but busy none the less. She hardly paid them any heed and walked rather slowly compared to the others. She carried the paper Nigel had given her in her hand, still unsure of what to do with herself. She had been walking for almost a half an hour, making her way in circles through some of Boston's more popular areas. Her mind was starting to whirl with all that had occurred to her recently. Garret leaving the morgue had reminded her of her father abandoning her. And then she remembered that both had lied to her. She had trusted them as one can only trust a father, and they had betrayed her in the worst ways possible. Preaching one way of life while living with the knowledge that they had broken every rule ever laid down for her. Telling her to act more sensibly and do her job and only her job. Meanwhile, they crossed lines she had never dreamed of crossing.

The pain of their betrayal was beginning to eat away at her soul. She was starting to think that there was no one in this world whom she could fully trust to tell her the truth. No, that wasn't true. She could always count on Woody to tell her the truth. Even if the truth was that he wanted nothing to do with her any more. Words could not express the sick feeling in her body when he had told her to get out. A large part of her died that day. Another part died as she watched Garret walk out the door. I let Devan die, she thought suddenly. It was her fault. She never did enough to help Peter either. Had she pushed them all away? Pushed them to their destruction? Why were people always leaving her? She never professed to be a low maintenance person to have a relationship with, but she felt strongly that she did nothing to warrant being abandoned as many times as she had. Told to leave things alone. Just do her job. Get out. Now.

Tears started to fill Jordan's eyes as she walked. It didn't occur to her that it might look odd for other people to see her halting along with tears streaming down her face. Fortunately, she couldn't really see them anymore. Cars whizzing by seemed to blur in her vision. The horns and engines sounded distant, echoing in her mind as strange, guttural sounds. She became very aware of the paper in her hand. She felt warmth from it. Warmth from Woody. She clutched it desperately to her chest. Perhaps if she held it close enough, she could feel him once more. How wonderful it would be to have him back again. Have her father back. Have Garret. Have her soul back. She suddenly felt her stomach tightening, clenching inside of her. Her rib cage felt too small to allow for her lungs. She struggled to keep her breathing under control. God, what is happening to me? Little silver stars started to burst in her already obscured vision. Panicking now, Jordan opened her mouth to call out, but no sound would come. An ear splitting bang just to her left overwhelmed her nervous system and she only had time for one thought before the world went white: Woody's been shot.

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Dr. Mark Schwartz quickened his pace slightly to keep up with the woman beside him. When Jordan had walked into the hospital, she had been clinging to that piece of paper like it was her very life. It was simple enough to find the room she was looking for. The ward was common enough that anyone in the hospital could have taken her without trouble. However, she had insisted that he take her there himself. Perhaps it was because he was the first person she had encountered there and she felt as though she needed to trust him and only him. It was the desperate look in her eyes that had allowed him to rationalize leaving his post at the ER for twenty minutes to escort her himself. Looking at the numbers on the wall, he gently placed his hand at her elbow and guided her around the corner, bringing her to a stop in front of number 413. He looked at her, standing there silently as though not quite sure what to do next.

"Would you like to go in now?" he asked, smiling to encourage her. Jordan simply nodded without looking back. Dr. Schwartz softly opened the door to the recovery room and stepped just inside, leaving room for Jordan to follow. He noted the young man lying dejectedly in the hospital bed, holding an entertainment magazine in front of glazed eyes. He glanced quickly at the patient chart to see the young man's name. "Mr. Hoyt," Dr, Schwartz said, "There's someone here who needs to see you."

Woody glanced up at the unfamiliar doctor standing inside of his room. None of his precinct buddies came to see him until after their shifts ended since he had gotten out of the woods. Cal wouldn't have the balls to visit now. He didn't really want to think of whom it was who was waiting on the other side of the doorframe. And then in she walked. With a look of sheer terror on her face, Jordan Cavanaugh inched her way into the room. He watched her take in the surroundings and look at him. He furrowed his brow. She had the oddest expression on her face. His confusion seemed to overrule any anger he felt towards her at the moment.

Jordan took in the small room, occupied only by one patient. It was stark and white. It felt cold. There was a small vase with flowers on the bedside table that someone brought in. Next to the bed were both a walker and a wheelchair. Finally, she let her gaze rest on the man lying in the hospital bed. For a moment, the two just stared at each other. When he didn't say anything, she started to feel a familiar panic creep into her. But then he spoke to her.

"Jordan," he said flatly. "What are you doing here? Who told you I was here?"

Relief flooded through Jordan's mind. He spoke to her. He actually opened his mouth and spoke to her, spoke her name. She felt tears well up in her eyes from happiness.

"You know me," she said, her voice full of emotion.

Woody was taken aback. I know her? he thought. What on earth kind of a thing is that to say? "Of course I know you. I'm not so angry at you that I've forgotten all about you…believe me, I haven't." He let some disdain drop into his voice, hoping to let her know that he wasn't entirely pleased to see her. He saw the fear creep back into her face.

"I wish I knew what you're talking about," she said in a quavering voice. At first he thought she was messing with him. But then he looked into her eyes and saw a terror which had never been there before. He stared at her in shock as she continued through her tears. "I really wish I knew. Because…I have no idea who you are…"