Title: "Scared Straight: Easy."
Author: A.M. Glass
Rating: PG-13, to be on the safe side.
Copyright: Nov. 18th, 2002
Revised: Nov. 23rd, 2002
Spoilers: For "Scared Straight."
Disclaimer: Jordan Cavanaugh, Lisa Fromer, et al belong to Tim Kring, Tailwind Productions and NBC Studios. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred. The story along with any/all original characters are the sole property of the author and cannot be used without expressed permission first.
Pairing: Jordan Cavanaugh and Dr. Lisa Fromer.
Notes: I have heard about "Crossing Jordan" but have never seen it. I did however notice a lot of O.T. e-mails on a list that I'm on concerning this past Monday's episode. So I decided to watch it. All in all it was a good episode, I didn't like everything about it, but that's okay. However, by the time the show concluded, I had already had the story you are about to read begging to be put onto paper.
Thanks: To Cait and Jennifer for going over the story and making sure I wasn't butchering Jordan's character too much and Jennifer's suggestions on how to make Jordan sound more. "Jordan-like". Also to my friend Deb, who listened to the story and suggested a line change.
Feedback: Important as I've never written about "Crossing Jordan" before.
"I'm not gay."
That's all I've heard echoing in my mind since I'd left Lisa...
"Doctor Fromer," I mutter under my breath, as if trying to distance myself from the woman by referring to her by her title rather than her name.
Lisa made it too... personal.
Yes, I acknowledged my attraction to her.
We both did.
But was it a physical reaction or an emotional one?
Was I responding to how she knew me so well? Or was it something else.
She is a psychologist.
Which would explain the how she was able to see me. How she managed to get past my barriers so quickly.
She called me an "outsider" when she thought I was ...gay.
That's not even a question. She hit the nail on the head, me being an outsider.
That doesn't explain why I felt so protective of her when we left the police station only to run into a group of reporters waiting for her shouting out questions and the flash from camera's blinding us.
Why did I place my arm around her shoulders?
It wasn't as if I had the right.
I don't really know her.
We'd only spoken a few times.
But the need to shelter her from the reporters rose outta nowhere. It felt like the right thing to do at the time.
Maybe it was simply because I had been there when she identified the body of her lover, Stephanie Goodman. I had seen her struggle to hold it together.
I'm still not sure.
I really couldn't blame the reactions at work the photographs caused when they showed up in the paper the next day. Had it been anyone else, the pictures would have led me to believe that the two women were involved.
But one of these women was me.
"I'm not gay."
My conflicting emotions did not stop me from going to her home to let her know that an arrest had been made in Stephanie's death.
The way she broke down after the mask of strength finally crumbled.
I couldn't help myself.
I knew I had to leave Lisa...
"Dr. Fromer" when I did.
It would have been so easy to gently turn her around and embrace her, to hold onto her instead of the awkward arm around her shoulders. As if I were afraid of what might happen.
To have let my hands move up and down her back, feeling the subtle contours...
Perhaps even pulling back so that I could gaze into her eyes, searching for who knows what.
How easy it would have been to lean forward and brush my lips against hers.
To possibly feel the spark that would have lit a flame that in all probability would have consumed us both.
We both felt the pull.
Like I said: Easy.
However, I'm not the type of person who takes the easy way out.
And those now infamous words came from my lips: "I'm not gay."
We both knew I couldn't stick around.
Just like we both knew I wanted to.
Later, I found myself back at the office, phone in hand and dialing a number I've just learned.
I think of what I left behind.
Garrett shows up and begins to talk to me and all I want him to do is leave. My attention is divided, I'm wondering about the call and as much as I appreciate the sentiment, the effort...
I have to be alone.
He finally leaves just as I'm put through.
I hear her voice.
Was this a mistake?
I shouldn't be calling.
Before I know it, we're talking.
I've given a fake name: Jane.
I know she'll recognize my voice, I just know it.
The last words I hear prior to hanging up are: "The lines are always open."
". always open."
"Huh. Better than 'I'm not gay'," I tell myself, making a mental note to catch the rest of Dr. Fromer's ...Lisa's program.
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