DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.
It's all for fun. More fun that Tim Kring et. al. seem to want to have at any rate.
A/N: Yeah, yeah, never happen in a million years, but that's what fanfic is for. Thanks to all who have feedbacked my more serious efforts and are enjoying my work. More soon!
Timeline: the second Las Vegas crossover
Ladies and Gentlemen, Presenting... (1/1)
The first thing that struck Jordan was how damn bright the light was even though her eyes were closed. She groaned and decided given her headache that was a tremendously bad idea. Maybe one of her worst ever. And that was saying something.
The second thing that struck her was how incredibly soft the sheets were. She might not have noticed them quite so much except she was stark naked. She thought about groaning again and remembered the previous result.
The third and final thing she became aware of was that she wasn't alone in bed. There was definitely a weight on the other side of the mattress that went along with a snuffling breathing sound. The weight groaned and then winced audibly.
It really must have been some night. Now if only Jordan could remember who she'd... damn. Her last memory was of ordering tequila shots with... un-uh. No way. She couldn't have been that dumb, could she? Despite her head, she groaned softly and revised her list of tremendously bad ideas.
Slowly she rolled over and opened her eyes, to find herself faced with bright blue ones.
"Last time I checked," she muttered.
"Do you remember tequila?"
"Do you remember anything after the tequila?"
"Not really. You?"
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. "Are you - um - naked?"
She blushed. "Yeah. You?"
"As the day I was born. You think - we - uh - you know - I mean...?"
Jordan thought about it. Confused images danced through her aching brain. The signals from her body indicated those images might not be so random. "Maybe. Probably." She sighed. "I think so."
Woody rubbed his forehead. "This is - awkward." Jordan stared at him. At his forehead. "What?"
"Uhhhhhh. This may be more than awkward."
"How do you figure?"
She reached over and plucked his hand from his brow. "This." She thrust his hand in front of his eyes. The plain gold band on Woody's left hand ring finger gleamed in the morning light. Woody's eyes widened. He sat up - way too fast as it turned out - and, as his head spun, he grabbed Jordan's left hand.
"What did we do?"
Jordan arched her eyebrows at him.
Woody sighed. "I know what we did. I mean... why? how?"
"Tequila." She closed her eyes. "And stupidity."
Woody gave her an offended look. "Stupidity?"
Jordan snorted. She clamped her teeth on the pain and maintained her usual facade. "What else would you call it?"
"I don't know. But I think stupidity is a little strong." He grew sulky. "I mean it's not like this was totally impossible. At one point." Jordan sat up, gathering the sheet around her. "Hey!" Woody protested at his sudden exposure.
"Don't worry, Farm Boy, I'm not looking. I'm also not having this conversation again. I need a drink."
"Don't you think it's a little early?" he sneered.
"Early, late, who the hell cares? I meant coffee, anyway. I'm going to grab a shower and go get something to eat-" Her stomach flipped. "Never mind. Get some coffee. You can meet me in the coffee shop when you're ready."
"Boy, Jo, you've got it all figured out."
"Don't call me that, Woody."
She glared at him. "Because we're not friends any more."
He gave her a brittle smile and wiggled his ring finger at her. "But we are man and wife."
Jordan sat slumped over her coffee. She felt someone slide into the booth next to her and turned her face toward him. Through her dark glasses she saw Danny. He grinned. "Good morning?"
"The best," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You have a good - uh - wedding night?"
Jordan took her glasses off, her dark eyes narrowed at Danny. "You knew? You knew and did nothing?"
He laughed. "Oh, believe me, we tried to talk the two of you out of it. Do you know how stubborn you are? Both of you?"
Jordan groaned and put her head on the table.
"Don't bang your head on that table," he advised.
"Why not?" she muttered.
"It doesn't look like it would do your head much good."
When she sat up, he was gone, a business card in his place with a note on the back that said, "Congratulations - the wedding suite was on us."
"Gee, thanks," she said, tapping the card against the table.
"Thanks for what?"
She looked up to find Woody looking better than he had a right to. Wordlessly, she handed him the card. Woody read the message and then flipped it over. "He knew?"
Jordan sighed deeply. "They tried to talk us out of it. Apparently, we're very stubborn people."
"Well, we don't have to head out until this evening. We'll figure out how we get out-"
Her cell phone rang. "Hold that thought," Jordan said. "Cavanaugh." Woody watched her face as she listened. His heart sank - and then soared - when she screeched, "Now? But - now is not good." A pause. "Why? Um - because." A sigh. "All right. Fine. Yeah." She closed the phone. "They need us back in Boston. Now. Garret had Lily rebook us on the next fight out - in about ninety minutes."
All hell had broken loose in Boston with a series of drug- and gun-smuggling related killings that turned Boston into a war zone for several weeks. Everyone from the newest rookie on the force to the filing clerks at the morgue worked almost non-stop. The end result was a lot of arrests, the seizures of illegal arms and drugs and a big party to celebrate the work of everyone involved. Jordan ducked in, had a glass of wine and left.
Lily caught her at the door. "Aren't you staying?"
Jordan shook her head. "I'm just too beat, Lily. I'm going to go home, take a bath and try to figure out what to do about Woody."
Jordan waved ehr hand. "It's a long story. I'll tell you over a couple drinks some time. Just not tequila."
Lily watched in confusion as Jordan retreated down the hall.
Two hours later, as Jordan lay on her couch, hair still damp, she held the wedding band between her thumb and forefinger. They'd both removed them on the plane. What Woody had done with his, she didn't know. Hers had lain on her dresser, winking at her every morning until she stuffed it into a drawer. For five weeks it had been too insane to do little more than greet each other in passing. In the rare quiet moments, Jordan had done a lot of thinking. Her memories had cleared a little and she knew they'd made love that night, several times. She knew it had been good, that, despite all the alcohol, she had never felt that way. She brushed away a tear. Talk about ruining everything.
The knock on her door startled her. She dropped the ring onto the coffee table and got up. Through the peephole, she saw Woody. Sighing, she opened the door. No doubt he wanted to talk about how they'd end this farce of a marriage. Her heart skipped - he looked tired, but still so attractive. His hair was messy, his tie loosened and his suit crumpled.
"You didn't stay long," he observed as she stepped aside to let him in.
Jordan shrugged. "Tired."
"Yeah. I hear that."
"Get you something? Coffee? Beer?"
He grinned. "Tequila?"
"Decaf?" he tried.
She nodded. Woody followed her into the kitchen. She rolled her shoulders and he heard the pops and her accompanying winces. After she set the coffee to brewing, he stepped behind her, blocking her exit. His hands found the knotted muscles. He kneaded gently, applying more pressure gradually, feeling the tension trickle away from her. She closed her eyes, sighed and, forgetting herself, leaned against him. They stood like that as the coffee dripped. At last, Jordan opened her eyes. She swallowed. "Coffee's done."
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice thick. He dropped his hands and backed away.
She poured two mugs and carried them back to the couch. Woody's eye caught the glint of the band she'd left on the coffee table. She handed him one and sat down. He joined her, gazing at her from his end of the couch. "I thought you might have thrown it into the Charles by now."
Jordan started to reply, but found herself suddenly choked up. She shook her head. "You?" She managed at last, her eyes fixed on her mug.
He smiled softly and pulled his band from his pocket. "Maybe we should decide what to do." His voice sad, he added, "Mrs. Hoyt."
Without thinking, Jordan replied, "Dr. Hoyt."
"What did you say?" He leaned forward.
She looked up. "Dr. Hoyt."
Woody slid toward her. "Jo, do you want to give this a try?"
"Do you?" she countered.
"Don't do that. Just yes or no, Jordan. No more running, no more games." He took her mug from her and put in on the table with his. Then he took her hands. "Yes or no?" She'd given him her heart once and he'd told her it was too late. Every instinct in her told her to run now, as fast and far as she knew how, but her words to Lily haunted her. I sat on the fence too long, once, she thought. Finally, her eyes hot with tears, her throat tight with pain, she whispered, "Yes."
Woody pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. "Oh, thank God, Jo."
He pulled away and laid his forehead on hers. Their eyes locked. "I don't care how we ended up here. I'm just happy we did." He kissed her softly - on her forehead, on her nose, on her cheeks and finally on her mouth. When they broke apart, they both breathed a little faster and their hearts were thudding, almost in tandem. Woody kissed the crown of her head. "Do you - um - remember anything about - that night?"
She grinned up at him. "A few things have come back to me."
He gave her a slyly appraising look. "Yeah?" His smile grew wolfish. "Me too."
"Want to show me what you remember?"
He laid his lips against her ear. "Gladly, Dr. Hoyt." She shivered in anticipation as he lifted her into his arms.
They both called in sick the next day as they found old memories and made plenty of new ones.