Crashing Down

Rushing to the hospital, she muttered under her breath, praying to a God that she wasn't sure she believed in that he would be all right. She would give anything, anything, for a chance to fix things between them. The doctor she spoke to as they were rushing him to surgery was not that encouraging, but at least Woody came to a little when she was begging him not to die. Relieved to at least have this chance she bent to whisper in his ear. He may not have been fully conscious of what she was saying, but it needed to be said. She needed to say it, to know that she had told him what he meant to her in case... in case the worst should happen. But she could not say those three words. It may have been the expected time to say them, it may have been what he wanted to hear; but it was one thing that she couldn't bring herself to say. Partly because speaking them then and there would spook Woody and have him convinced he was about to die when he needed to fight to live; but mainly because as much as she suddenly realised how much he meant to her, she wasn't a hundred percent sure if she would go that far. She wasn't sure she was ready to admit, even to herself, that she loved him.

Those hurried words whispered as he was wheeled away led to hours of waiting for word on his condition. Jordan paced the coridor, still muttering the same prayer under her breath. Garret and Lily came to keep vigil with her, but their presence was barely a comfort. She couldn't relax, she couldn't sit still until she knew that he would be all right. He has to be all right. When the doctor finally came out of theatre and Woody was wheeled into recovery the news was not encouraging. His spleen had to be removed, and they were waiting until morning to open him up again to see if there was any residual nerve damage... to see whether he would walk again.

That was a devastating thought, and Jordan had to suck it up and put on a cheerful face before she went in to see Woody. He didn't need to see her worry just then. He needed to stay positive for his recovery. Which may be a bit of a tall order, as she found as she walked into his room. He was depressed and bitter, understandably so, on top of the pain and exhaustion that came with being shot and hours of surgery. And maybe her assertion that if you had to lose an organ then the spleen was the best one to go was not the most intelligent thing she ever came out with, even if it was delivered in a cheerful manner.

She expected depression and residual anger from him. That was to be expected, and she was prepared for that. What she had not expected was what he said to her, what he basically accused her of. She was hopeful when he said he heard what she had whispered to him before the surgery; only to have her hopes dashed with his next words.

"You said it 'cos you felt sorry for me."

Accusing her of making up those sentiments because she felt pity for a man who may be paralysed hurt. Sure, she was trying to be cheerful for his sake; but that was below the belt. She would never do that, and she thought he would have known it. But her pleas and protests fell on deaf ears.

"Get out of here," he demanded.

"Woody..."

"Screw your pity and get out of here. Now."

And with those words her world came crashing down again; and all she could do was obey his wishes. She had laid her heart on the line for him, and he shot her down. Brutally. She could rationalise it all she wanted, that it was just the pain, fear, anger, and helplessness that fueled his words; but she couldn't help feeling that it was what she deserved, devastating as it was.