DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Oh wait, maybe they can be now. Should have staged that damn coup….

A/N: Uhhhhh… I got nothin'. To be honest, the last half of the season has left me indifferent for the most part but dammit, I want some sort of decent ending and I don't think we're going to get it, so this is my attempt.


The plane rocked again. It shuddered as air currents battled around the suddenly frail-seeming metal frame and skin. Jordan wondered if the God she rarely prayed to would listen to her now or leave her on her own, which she may well have deserved. She glanced out the window, wishing, not for the first time, she hadn't bullied Woody into letting her have that seat. What was she hoping to see? The sun suddenly bursting through the clouds? A host of angels with smiling faces holding up the wings? A dark ribbon of runway appearing miraculously below them? She trembled, knowing it was probably best all she could see was gray storm-written skies. Somewhere below them were the sharp teeth of mountains, hungry to tear at the belly of the plane, ready to scatter their blood and bones across the hillsides. She thought, for the first time in years, of Devan Maguire and wondered what her last moments had been like.

She turned from the window and risked a look over at Woody. He stared straight ahead, his blue eyes dark with worry, his back straight, his jaw tight. As if feeling the weight of her gaze, he glanced over. He gave her a thin-lipped smile, trying to reassure her. Wordlessly, he took her hand, his fingers closing around hers, squeezing softly, more reassuring than the failed smile.

At least she had this. His hand, warm, safe, gentle. This. If there was nothing more, there was this. Enough.


She looked down. There could have been more. Should have been. And now this would have to be enough.

Enough to know she always came back to what she had with him.

Enough to know she might have made a life with him.

Enough to know she loved him.

Enough to know it did change things and that those things never changed back.



She raised her eyes. "Woody?" Her voice was thick, little more than a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah?" He looked at her, watching her eyes shine with tears she wouldn't shed.

"You may not want to hear… I mean, it may not change anything. For you. But I need you to know… I meant it. It changed everything. And I – I never stopped. Even when I should have."

"Jordan?" His brows knit down in confusion.

Her lips quirked into a tiny smile. "I love you, Woody." The moisture in her eyes spilled forth, tears trailing down her cheeks slowly, unheeded by her.

With his free hand, Woody thumbed away her tears. He leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. He murmured lowly, his voice for her ears alone. "I lied, Jo. When I said it didn't change anything." He hesitated. "I'm sorry. I should have told you then, should have been able to say it." He brushed his hand through her dark hair. "I love you, too, Jordan Cavanaugh."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile sad, resigned. "Woody?"

He murmured an inchoate response.

"If this is… If we don't get… out of this-"

"We will."

"If we don't, it's enough."

He tipped up her chin with one finger. "Jordan, we are going to get out of this."

"All right, all right," she agreed, trying to mean it. "But if we don't…."

Woody's face softened. "If we don't… you're right. It's enough. To know."

She laid her head against his shoulder again and he tightened his arm around her.

If it had to be, it was enough.