Four days isn't normally such a long time.
But for Jordan they seemed to go on forever. Four days.
Four days since she and Woody had almost kissed – again. Four days since she had put him on the plane and flew him to Miami to hear The Kinks.
Four days she spent aimlessly wandering around LA…revisiting old haunts…reconnecting with old friends….marking the time until her plane flew out of LAX to Boston.
Woody would have been back in that city at least 24-hours by now. She had wanted to leave California to come home as soon as he left the city….but she couldn't. She couldn't change her tickets, so she had been held hostage in a city that made her slightly crazy. Los Angeles. The city of Angels…my ass, she thought. There was nothing angelic about a city that made you go into anger management.
But now she was on a plane taking her from LA to Chicago. Chicago to Philadelphia. Philadelphia to Logan. And Logan to Woody. She leaned back in her seat, on the last leg of her flight and thought about what he said.
I just keep pushing people away, Woody. Or I run. What makes me this way? She had asked him. How do I stop?
Maybe you just need someone to hold you a little tighter, was his soft reply.
It was the most romantic thing any man had ever said to her. And he had been very serious…his blue eyes holding hers captive. He had moved to kiss her…his lips just a fraction of an inch from hers. And this time, this time, she was going to let him. Her mouth was already open, his arms had been around his waist. After the four damned long years since their kisses in the Mojave Desert, after so long for waiting on each other to make up their minds, after everything… her cell phone has to ring.
And it wasn't like she could ignore it. Faye's life was on the line. He had whispered against her lips, Please don't answer that, Jordan. Please. But she had to. Later, at the karaoke bar, she had given him the airline tickets and the Kinks concert pass. He had to go. She felt badly that he had given up something that meant so much to him to help her.
And she knew she could not have freed Faye without him. It meant the world to her for him to go – that for once…one time in her life…she could give Woody something and not expect anything in return. She did it because….well, she may as well admit it…she loved him. She had for a very long time. She had fought it, cursed it, and nearly been broke into by it, but she did.
He had wanted to stay with her…those four days in Boston. "It's been a long time, Jordan," he had told her…softly sweeping her long hair off her shoulder. "You're not doing this to avoid me?"
"Yeah," she had jokingly admitted, but reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "But I'll be back in Boston. Waiting on you. I'm not going anywhere."
He had turned his head and kissed her palm then, sending fireworks down her arm. If the need to get him in a taxi so he could make his plane hadn't been so urgent, she would have kissed him there….in the middle of the karaoke bar, in front of God and everybody. Instead, when she walked him out to the taxi, she had asked, "Did you mean it, Woody?"
"Mean?" he had asked, not following her line of thinking.
"That maybe all I needed was for someone to hold me a little tighter?"
He had pulled her close and tilted her head up so she would look him in the eyes. "Yes….that's all you need…someone to hold you a little tighter."
"Think you maybe would like to apply for the job?" she had asked softly, joking with him just a little.
"As soon as you and I get back to Boston, the job's mine," he had said, and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before jumping in the taxi.
And that had been four…almost five days ago. The torrential rains in California had prevented her plane from flying out twice.
But she was on her way home now…back to Boston.
Back to him.
She was back in Boston, arriving late the night before. They had spoken several times since they had left LA. He had called her from the Kinks concert. "Here that?" he asked. The refrains from "You've Really Got Me" drifted through her cell phone.
"Yeah," she said loudly, so he could hear. "Are you having a good time?"
"I am….I just wish you were here."
"I wish I was there, too."
Then he called when he got back to Boston. He sounded congested. Immediately, she worried. "I just think I picked up a cold, that's all, doc," he teased. I'll be fine. See you in 24."
She called him when she got back to her apartment. "You should have called me at Logan. I would have come and picked you up," he said, sneezing all the while.
"It's late, and you should be asleep. I figured you would be and I'd just leave a message. Are you taking anything for that cold?"
"Nah…I'll be fine."
"Don't be all manly on me, Woody. You need a decongestant. And if you're ears are hurting you need an antibiotic."
"Jordan, I'm fine. See you tomorrow."
"Hey, Woody," she said before he could hang up. "Still applying for the job?"
She could almost see his grin through the phone. "You bet."
Jordan didn't see him until the next day. She was called into a homicide scene with him. She surveyed the crime scene, examined the body, and got it ready to go to the morgue. Then she examined Woody.
"How long have you had that cough?" she asked, walking up to him.
"About five days."
"Taking anything for it?"
"Cough drops."
Jordan gave him an impatient look. "Duh. Have you seen a doctor?"
"It's just a cold…" and a fit of coughing and sneezing took over. She backed away until it stopped. Then going back up to him, she pulled him down to her level and placed her hand on his forehead. He was burning up with fever. "Dear Jesus, Woody," she said. 'You've got a temperature. Go home."
"I can't. Not until this shift is over."
"Give it up, Farm Boy. You're sick. Go home before you infect the rest of the precinct and the morgue."