Disclaimer: Don't own any of them. Wish I did. I'd slap some sense into Woody.
Chapter One
I'm Moving On
It had been a long year. Longer than most, but still not long enough, Jordan mused as she sat in front of her make up mirror and brushed out her long hair. Exaclty three hundred and sixty-five days had passed since Woody had been shot. Ten months since he had regained use of his legs. Nine months since he had returned to work with the Boston PD.
Not that she was counting or anything.
Sighing, she realized that she had forfeited that privilege the day he had kicked her out of his hospital room…even if she didn't cognitively digest it until the day he told her he was getting all the toxins out of his system…and had given her a pointed look so that she would have no doubt that he was also referring to her. She was poison. And he wanted her gone.
He was, as he had sworn to her, going to move on. And he did. Due to his increasing "anger issues," the Captain of the police department had moved Woody from homicide to narcotics until Woody could get his emotions under control and deal with his injuries…as well as the person who had injured him.
At times, Jordan wasn't sure if this was Riggs or herself. She felt that for some reason, Woody blamed the entire event on her.
So now the man who still made her heart do flips and her knees grow weak no longer came to the morgue. As a matter of fact, from the gossip that Jordan could catch through the police department's grapevine, Woody was deep undercover with his new department, hoping not only to conquer whatever "anger issues" he had, but also curry enough favor that the Captain would allow him back into homicide.
All Jordan knew was that she hadn't seen Woody for six months. She prayed nightly for his safety before she went to sleep.
And for a while, those nightly prayers were followed with nightly dreams of him and her…running together…working together…making love together. But as the weeks passed and even the memory of his scent grew weaker, her dreams of him and them came less frequently.
Until finally, one week, they didn't come at all. Jordan believed that on some unconscious level, maybe her heart was really over him. Maybe whatever they had was really over. Maybe it was now time for her to move on.
Which brought her back to her hair and make up. She was going out tonight. Nigel and Bug, Lily and Seeley, and an assorted group of friends were going out. Dinner. Dancing. Fun.
She swallowed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It had been a long time since she had done anything for fun. It pained her to remember that for four years, most of her "fun" memories had been with Woody. And even then, they held a bitter sweetness to them as both she and Woody were dealing with their inner demons as well as trying to define their relationship.
But no more. She put down her hair brush with a determined bang. She had been in contact with Danny McCoy during the past several weeks as her dreams of Woody had subsided. While a few months ago, she had shied away from "cheap, meaningless sex," she had sent signals to the casino security officer that she was now ready for something more….They had become good friends. Danny had let it be known he was simply waiting on Jordan to make the first move. He would meet her more than half way.
She gazed at herself in the mirror. She hadn't worn that red dress in a long time. Two years at least. The opportunity never arose. I need to start making more opportunities for myself, she thought. It's the only way I will ever truly get on with my life… She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
If a good time was to be discovered tonight, she'd find it. If moving on had to be done, she'd lace up her running shoes.
And Woody was to be forgotten.
But not forgiven.
"Sorry we had to call you in, Dr. C., but with Dr. Macy out of town, the responding detective asked for you," Emmy said as Jordan entered the morgue later on that night. Jordan pushed down the irritation of being called in when she wasn't on rotation and tried to asses the situation at hand. She really wanted to be done with whatever the hell and whoever the hell it was that had her called in as quickly as possible and get back to the dance club.
"He asked for me directly?" she inquired, unlocking her office and setting her purse and keys on her desk.
"Yes, he did."
"Why? Surely Sydney could have handled anything -- and any body -- that was thrown his way."
"That's what he says," Emmy said, trying her best to keep a smirk off her face. "But when the detective found out you were the answering ME on a similar case last week, he requested you to examine the body he brought in."
Jordan sighed and pulled her hair back into a sloppy bun. About the time she was just beginning to really unwind and relax, her cell phone had gone off. She had ignored it for a while, until the persistent vibrations from device was causing her pocketbook to shake like it was a thing possessed. When she finally answered, Emmy was insistent that she come in, despite Jordan's well-founded protests that she was "off of work and not on call, damn it."
Whoever this dick-head detective was, her viable excuse wasn't holding much credence with him. Turning to Emmy before she disappeared into the locker room to put on her scrubs, Jordan asked, "And just who is the answering asshole detective on this case?"
"I am," came a calm voice from her door way. "I'm your asshole…guilty as charged."
Jordan swallowed. There, leaning against her doorway, with an air of cockiness and cold confidence still wreathed around him, was Woody. "Good evening, Jordan." He looked her over from head to toe, his eyes taking in the amount of skin and curves that the red dress revealed…the same dress she had worn with him on the Sickboy case… "Sorry to have … interrupted your evening," he finished on something akin to a sneer.
"Not as sorry as I am to be interrupted," Jordan shot back, determined not to let him gain any emotional or professional ground. "Let me change into my scrubs and I'll be with you in a minute. Then maybe I can get back to my evening…sans interruptions from you …as quickly as possible.