So here we are...not a very long chapter, but it didn't really need to be. Chapter 16 took care of so much. I'll hopefully start my next story next week...I have the topic, but not much of the plot thought out. Hope this is a sufficient ending for those of you who have stuck with it.

Oh, and here's a straw poll for my next story. Without saying anything else about the context, would you rather it revolve around the American Revolution or the Great Depression?

Enjoy:-)

Chapter Seventeen: The End

"You know, you can keep these," the doctor said facetiously after he was finished removing Jordan's casts.

"Yeah…I don't think so," Jordan replied. "I don't want to see them ever again…you can burn them for all I care."

The doctor chuckled. "Just checking," he said as he walked out of the room.

Jordan turned to Woody. "You ready to leave, Detective?"

"You're not done yet," he taunted. "You have to make appointments for physical therapy…you know you can't just get up and walk like nothing happened."

She rolled her eyes. "Isn't six weeks of torture enough? I mean, not only have I been forced into wheelchairs, but all Garret has let me do since I came back is paperwork!"

This time, Woody sniggered. "Jordan, Garret would have made you do paperwork even if we had never gone to DC…you're like a year behind on that stuff."

Jordan's only response was a glare. Then she tried to get off the exam table, but her legs wouldn't let her stand. Woody reacted just in time to prevent Jordan from a hard landing on the floor.

"Take it easy," he said softly. "Just a little bit longer…then you won't need any help."

Surprisingly, Jordan pulled Woody closer. She looked up at him. "Doesn't mean you can't help me anyway," she said coyly.

Woody transferred her to the wheelchair where they shared a brief kiss. As they left the room, Jordan tested her arm's strength…it faired better than her legs, but then her arm wasn't required for standing.

Jordan insisted on finishing the day at the morgue—"I'm perfectly capable of sitting at a desk, thank you very much—," and all but forced Woody to drive her there. After indulging her for a few hours, Garret (with prompting from Woody) kicked the pair out and they were back in Jordan's apartment.

They sat down to a spaghetti dinner complete with Woody's trademark sauce. "Wonder how the NCIS bunch is doing?" Woody asked seemingly offhand.

"Ziva is fine…as for the others, don't know, don't care," Jordan replied.

Woody looked up. "When did you talk to her?" He knew that the two women had been exchanging the occasional phone call, but he hadn't heard about the last one.

"Yesterday while you were at work," she said. Then she smiled devilishly. "Her team has a new case, and she wanted my opinion. You see, the guy they found had a—"

"Stop right there!" Woody said, holding his hand up. He gestured towards his plate. "I'm eating, which will make whatever disgusting dead-body-related thing you're about to say seem ten times worse that it would normally."

Jordan laughed. After a few more minutes, she got serious. "Thank you, Woody," she said quietly.

"What for?"

She looked up, almost embarrassed. "You know…helping me, putting up with me…making me see Stiles…not leaving."

"Jordan, I'd do it all again if something else happened to you…but I'd rather it not," he said back. "And I will never leave you."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

Jordan took a breath. "Good…because there's this Shakespeare Festival coming up in a few weeks, and I thought that it would be fun for us to go to."

Woody groaned and Jordan laughed. And it was the end…but at the same time, it was the beginning.