"Ready, Garrett?" Woody asked. He was standing outside his SUV, waiting as Garrett was saying his last good-byes to Jordan. Looking through his reflective sunglasses, he watched as they hugged good-bye. It had been a double-edged sword for him to observe those two. The easy-going banter and loving ribbing had taken him back to another place and time. A time when getting the girl seemed like a distinct possibility. A time when chasing the bad guy finally led somewhere. A place that was warmer, where the beer was colder, and the people were nicer. Hell, it made him think of home.

Not home as in Wisconsin. No, that hadn't been home in years. Boston. In many ways, Woody still thought of Boston as home, even though he had worked hard to put the city out of his mind. Boston. He sighed. He hoped the bureau would be able to wrap this case up quickly and get Jordan home before much longer. His carefully crafted FBI façade was getting some pretty heavy duty cracks in it. Especially after she called him Farm Boy.

The shock of the phrase. He hadn't been called that in over five years. It slipped out of her mouth like her own name. It knocked the wind out of him and reeled his head around like a good left hook. Farm Boy. Her Farm Boy. And it had startled her, too. He could read it in her face and her eyes. If nothing else, the police and FBI training had taught him to read body language well. She was as shocked as he had been. The past had bore down on them like a coming apocalypse with the mere turn of a phrase.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Garrett said, putting his bag in the back seat of the SUV. Turning around, he spoke to Jordan one last time. "Be careful. Come home soon. And try not to give these guys too hard of a time, huh?" He kissed her on the check and swept her up in a hug.

Jordan was trying to control the tears that were creeping out from under her eyelids. "I'll be careful, and I'll be good. Tell Nige I miss him. And..and..I miss you, too," she said, choking back the tears. "And I'll be home as soon as I can," she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper.

Garrett got in the SUV and watched Jordan in the mirror until she was out of sight. "Funny," he said to Woody, "All those years I worried about her running again, now she's here in New York, and all she wants to do is come home. Any chance you know when that will be?"

Woody didn't answer immediately. He was trying to couch his answer in realistic terms. "Garrett, there's been a deliberate attempt made on Jordan's life. We're aware of numerous threats against her. I honestly don't know. I don't know if she's going back to Boston or staying here."

Garrett nodded. "The main thing is to keep her safe."

"I know. She will have to testify, and I hope to keep her out of harm's way for that and bring her back to Boston safe and sound and in one whole, healthy piece."

"Can you keep me informed of what's going on?"

"Yeah, I'll do my best as much as they will let me."

They had reached the airport. Woody let Garrett out at the curb. "Take care of my girl," Garrett said.

"I will. I'll keep her safe."

"That's not quite what I meant, Hoyt. She's still crazy about you. Be careful with her heart. Even if you bring her back to me in one piece, if her heart's broke again, it will take me months to get her back on track." And with one final wave, Garrett was gone.

Crazy about him? Her heart broken again? He didn't know he broke it in the first place. She had never let on, never said a word.....Did Garrett really know what he was talking about? Woody ran his hand through his hair. Hadn't she moved on five years? Oh hell, had he?

Woody went back to his office after dropping Garrett off to catch his plane. He closed the door and pretended to deal with some paperwork that was threatening to take over his desk. But his mind kept going back to Jordan and what Garrett had said. Finally, he stood up and grabbed his coat. He was going back over to the hotel and check on her.

Taking the elevator to the tenth floor, he knocked softly at her door. "It's me, Jordan. It's Woody."

Jordan checked the peephole in the door to verify his claim and unlocked the door, slowly pushing it open. Woody came in and she locked it again.

"Did Garrett get to the airport okay?"

"Ummm yeah."

"Do you need to ask me anymore questions?"

"Not today, Jo."

"Then why are you here?" Jordan didn't think his FBI aloofness would allow for a social call.

Woody loosened his tie. "I just wanted to check on you. I mean you seemed pretty upset when Garrett had to leave."

Jordan looked down at the carpet. It was a nondescript gray rug...like everything else she had seen so far in New York...nondescript, impersonal, cold.

"I am. I miss home, Woody. I miss my friends. I miss my work."

Woody sat down on the couch. "You don't miss your family?"

Walking over to the window, looking at the bleak New York landscape, Jordan replied, "I don't have any family in Boston anymore, Woody. No one except my 'family' at the morgue. Dad's still not come home."

Woody digested that fact. He had assumed that Max would have returned by now. So Jordan was alone, more or less. No wonder she had held onto Garrett the way she did. No wonder she was as anxious to return to familiar surroundings. It was all she had.

He was getting ready to ask her if she had heard from Max when his radio went off, requesting that he come to Winstead's office immediately. Rising from the couch, he walked over and gently ran his hand down her arm. "We'll get you home Jo, as soon as we can. I need to talk to you, but I have to go now. Maybe tomorrow?"

Jordan nodded. He let himself out.

================================================

Winstead was pacing when Woody arrived. "Where have you been, Hoyt?"

"Taking care of Jordan," he replied. This seemed to calm his boss down a little.

"That's good. Real good. Because we've just got information about another threat on your little Boston ME. We're going to have to move her."

"Where to?"

"That's what we're trying to work out now. Where would be the safest place to stash her until we make an arrest and the heat dies down?"

Woody rankled at the word "stash." It made Jordan sound like a thing instead of a living, breathing person. "How about that safe house in New Hampshire?" he suggested.

Winstead shook his head. "Too close. And occupied already. We need to think, Hoyt. It's got to be safe, but it's got to be somewhere that she would be relatively comfortable. I've got Atkins working on it. You need to let her know that she may not see Boston for a while."

Woody thought that cutting his right arm off might be easier than what his boss asked him to do. He took himself to a local bar to drink through this problem. Finally deciding that there was nothing like the truth, even if it was backed up by Scotch fortitude, he made his way back to Jordan's hotel room. It was late. He doubted she'd be up, but he needed to get this off his chest.

After showing his badge to the agents outside the door, he knocked. "Hey, she won't answer," said one of the agents. "She's in bed."

"Where's Agent Phillips?"

"She had a family emergency and was called home. Our boss said that two agents outside her door would be okay for one night, as long as we go in every few hours to check on her."

Woody cursed. Now what? She was in immediate danger and was alone in that room. "Where's the master key?" he growled.

Wordlessly the agent handed Woody the key card and he let himself in. Woody shut the door and locked it. He didn't want to be interrupted by an agent "just doing his job." Softly, he walked into Jordan's bedroom and over to her bed. The room was dark, except for the soft glow of the screensaver on her laptop. She was on her side, curled up, fast asleep. For a moment, Woody questioned the wisdom in waking her up and imparting the news that her life was going to take one more loop on this rollercoaster ride. Maybe morning would be better, he thought, but he needed to get this taken care of now.

"Jordan," he said, gently shaking her. "Jordan."

She mumbled something and buried her face in the pillow.

"No, Jordan, we need to talk," Woody said, turning on the lamp beside the bed.

"Not now. You said tomorrow."

Woody checked his watch. "It is tomorrow, Jo."

"Tomorrow later. Like when the sun comes up in this god-forsaken town."

"No, Jo, this is important." Wood rolled her over to her back so she would wake up and listen to him.

And immediately wished he hadn't. When he turned her over, the covers managed to scrunch down to her waist, revealing her nightgown in the dim light of the room.

The entire time he had known Jordan, she had never slept in a gown. She had always gone to bed in tank tops and girl boxers, or just sweats. But this was definitely a nightgown that screamed femininity. It was made of thin, white material, held up by the tiniest of ribbons on her shoulders. It was lace and flowers and pure seduction all confected in one garment. Woody swallowed hard.

"What is it, Wood?" Jordan asked, beginning to sit up. Woody pushed her back down and drew the covers up to her neck. "Cut it out! What is wrong?" she asked again, pushing his hands and the covers away and sitting up so she could see him better.

"This is not good," Woody thought. Now, not only was he having to contend with the nightgown and what it was vaguely revealing to him, but her hair was loose around her shoulders. He swallowed again. She looked like ....well....he was trying not to think about what she looked like.

"Woody?"

Swallowing hard yet one more time, Woody tried to make the words come out of his mouth. "Jordan.."

"Yes"

"Jordan..."he began again. "There's been some threats made against you in the last few days. Some substantial threats. We're concerned about your safety..." Woody was losing his train of thought as he looked into her honey- colored eyes.

"And..." Jordan said.

"And we're not sure you should remain here in New York, but not sure you should go back to Boston."

"No!" Jordan said, rather forcefully even for her. Deliberately she swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the dresser, leaning back against it.

"Bad move, Woody," he told himself. The nightgown reached her feet, but was offset by two slits on either side that reached her thigh. Way up her thigh. "Too far up her thigh," thought Woody. "Aren't those things illegal to wear?" And to top it off, with Jordan leaning back against the dresser, he had the exquisitely painful opportunity to view her in the gown from all sides, front and back. He struggled to keep his breathing normal.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, Jo. I just needed to tell you to be prepared," Woody got up. He needed to get out of this room. Fast. Only his legs were not cooperating and his eyes wouldn't stop looking.

Jordan blocked the door. "No. Not until you tell me where I'm going."

"I..I..I..dont' know yet, Jo. Let me out, now."

"Will you be coming with me?"

"I don't know that either."

Jordan sighed and sat back down on the bed, covering her face with her hands. Even though he was cold and aloof with her, she felt the safest with Woody. She always had. Hell, she always would.

At that point, Woody gave up the battle. He knew he had lost it. When she slumped back down on the bed after he told her he wasn't sure if he would be going with her or not, it was over for him. One look at her face did it. Knowing he was probably going to regret it, he sat down beside her and took her in his arms.

"It will be okay, Jo, I promise. I'll see what I can do." His hands began to move up and down her arms, a movement he meant to be comforting. She buried her face in his neck.

"Okay. Thanks Woody."

He didn't stop rubbing her arms. He moved his hands around to her back and gently began rubbing it. "Just to calm her down and get her to go back to sleep," he told himself. He wasn't prepared for her sigh and her arms to tighten around his neck. He shifted her slightly to one side and her hair fell back, revealing her neck. Before he could stop himself, he was gently kissing the side of her neck, from the ear to where that neck joined her shoulders.

Jordan caught her breath, telling her body to calm down. "Just because another man hasn't touched you in five years," she sternly told herself. "Oh damn," Woody had just found the spot behind her ear that made her knees buckle. She felt his lips there and then his tongue. A chill went up her spine. His hands had moved from her back to her sides, gently tracing their way up and down them. Just as slowly, Woody kissed his way from her neck to her lips, claiming them.

Jordan's world was spinning now. His lips were coaxing, gently easing hers apart so he could rub her tongue with his. A moan came from her throat. He pulled her closer, letting one of his hands trail back up to her breast while the other began a leisurely journey to the slit in the side of her gown. She moaned again and heard his in response. "Oh God," was the last coherent thought she had before a knock came at the door.

"Hoyt, you still in there?" asked the agent outside.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Woody thought. But he cleared his throat and said, "Yes...I'll be back out in a minute." Gently, he laid Jordan back down on the bed, letting his eyes roam over her flushed face and body. He pulled the covers up over her and softly kissed her lips one more time. "I'll see you in the morning," he whispered, flipping off the light and touching her cheek.

Checking himself in living room mirror before he left, he noticed that his tie was undone, his shirt was unbuttoned and his belt was unbuckled. How in the hell did she do that without him noticing? He shook his head and righted his clothes. He doubted either he or Jordan would get much sleep tonight.