Woody slammed his phone down on his desk. Friends, he thought....just friends. That's what friends do...that's what friends are for.... Couldn't she see he wanted to be her friend...and a whole lot more? He sighed deeply and tried to concentrate on the pile of paperwork in front of him. He struggled through two hours of it and gave up. His mind wasn't here. It was on a certain female ME. Shrugging under the mental weight of their previous conversation, he gave up. Hell, it was quitting time anyway....Putting on his coat, he headed out the door.

And found his feet taking him right back to the morgue. Hesitating momentarily, he pushed the doors open and went to her office. She was sitting behind her desk, facing her computer. "Hey," he said from the doorway.

She nearly stiffened at his voice. Jordan didn't expect him to see him again today. "Hi, how are you feeling?"

Woody pushed away from the doorframe that he had been leaning against "Still good....I think the pills are out of my system. What are you doing?"

"Finishing up some paperwork for Garrett. He rides my back every time I get behind."

Woody grinned. He knew that Jordan hated paperwork and would put it off as long as she could. "Are you about done?"

"With the paperwork, yes. But I don't get off work until nine."

"Oh. Thought I'd see if you had changed your mind about dinner..."

"Jordan...I need you in autopsy two if you're through with those forms," said Garrett, pausing at her office door. "Oh, hey Woody...are you better?"

"Yeah, fine now. I'll see you later, Jo." Woody held her eyes for a minute. Those eyes...windows to her soul. And right now, for some reason, they seemed to be filled with hurt....he couldn't understand it. Mentally shrugging, he turned to go. Maybe he was just seeing things. Maybe it was disappointment. Maybe she had wanted dinner...Maybe, maybe. He'd call her later tonight and see what was up.

Jordan followed Garrett out the door, changed into her scrubs, and met him in autopsy. "Sorry I interrupted," he apologized to Jordan.

"Interrupted what?"

"It seemed like you and Woody were 'having a moment'. If I knew he was in your office, I would have waited."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Garrett. He just wanted to know if I wanted to go out to dinner and I told him I had to work until nine."

"You should have said yes. I would have let you off."

"Nah. That's okay."

"Is he still trying to thank you for taking care of him the other night?"

"I guess so."

"Didn't he think the roses were enough?"

"I don't guess..." Jordan quickly turned to face Garrett over the autopsy table. "I never said the roses were from Woody," she said, sharply.

"You didn't have to. If a woman stayed with me all night to make sure I was going to be in one piece the next morning, she'd have roses as quickly as I could get them to her."

Jordan digested this bit of information. Quietly, with her head bent down over the body, she asked, "Do you think anyone else knows?"

"Well, I think most of them have put two and two together, but no one really knows for sure but you. Why don't you want anyone to know Woody sent you flowers? I mean, it's common knowledge that you two...well, have feelings for each other."

"I do for him," Jordan admitted in a rare moment of openness for her, even to Garrett, "But I think his has changed for me."

Garrett pulled away from the autopsy and reached for Jordan's arm. Turning her to him, so he could see her face, he took her hands and asked, "What makes you think that?"

To her horror, Jordan could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Glancing down at the floor to regain her composure, and then back at Garrett, she replied. "You know how sleeping pills work, Garrett. They're sort of like alcohol....get enough in your system and your inhibitions are out the window. When I stayed with Woody the other night, the only thing he told me was to leave, go away, get out...he didn't want me there."

"But you stayed."

"I couldn't live with myself if anything had happened to him. I don't know what I would do if anything did."

"And you're not sure what he meant?"

"No, I think I know what he meant." Garrett gave her questioning look. "I think, that deep down inside, Woody knows that a relationship with me would be nothing but trouble. That's why he asked me to leave. I think that in reality, anything I would have with him would be a fling – a temporary thing – and then he'd go find someone else. Someone steadier...without so much baggage...more traditional..."

"And you don't want to risk finding out if this is true?"

"You know my past....you better than anyone Garrett. My heart's been torn apart too many times already. I'm just kind of getting back on my feet emotionally. I don't have a whole lot left to give anyone. And I couldn't handle it if Woody broke my heart. I don't think I'd ever recover. It's just better than we remain friends on some level."

While the admission was brief, Garrett could see it was heartfelt. Her hands were trembling in his. But at least she was coming clean with herself emotionally. Gently squeezing his favorite ME's hands, he said "Go home, Jo. It's okay. I can get Peter or Nigel or Bug to help me here. I had no idea this whole sleeping pill incident bothered you so badly. Get a little rest...take a breather before you have to go to the Pogue tonight, okay?"

Jordan nodded. She didn't trust her voice. Giving Garrett a teary smile she left the room, changed back into her street clothes and went back to her office to get her purse and keys. Glancing at the roses on her desk, she made a quick decision. They were going home with her. She didn't want anyone...Nigel, Lily, anyone ... pawing over them, trying to decide who sent them and why. She would enjoy them in private until, one by one, they faded away. And after that, she would have the card....

He was well on his way to being , totally drunk. Which had been his goal for the evening. To get drunk and get her off his mind.

And he was half way there. He was drunk. Well and truly drunk. But she was still on his mind. And, according to the bartender, she was due in any minute to take over. He tried to steady himself on the barstool – maybe he could at least look like he was half-way sober. He grinned to himself. That would be an accomplishment. Half-way sobriety.

Woody checked his wristwatch. Squinting at it, he saw it was past nine. She should be waltzing in at any minute....He heard the backdoor slam shut. That would be her.

"Hey, Gordan," he heard her greet the bartender. "How's it going? Looks like a full house tonight."

"It is. The place is packed. But mostly it's regulars."

"Any trouble?"

"None...except for him. And he's not causing any problems...just keeps asking for you. But I think you're going to have to call the man a cab. He's in no condition to drive. Want me to cut him off, or will you make sure you have his keys?" Gordan said, pointing down the bar to Woody.

Jordan caught her breath. What the hell is he doing here? She thought. "I'll take care of him, Gor. Don't worry. He won't drive. Don't cut him off, or he may try to leave and then he may hurt himself. What's he drinking?"

"Scotch, neat."

"Water it down. We won't cut him off, but we will change it to a dribble."

"Won't he know?"

Jordan looked Woody over carefully. "No...he's in no condition to know the difference. Did he say why he was drinking so hard?"

"Nope. Just said keep 'em coming."

Jordan sighed. She wondered if it was a case he was working on that was bothering him....she could remember any case they had worked on together that would cause him to go on such a bender...but she hadn't worked closely with him in the last couple of weeks. Their work shifts hadn't been the same.

"You can go home now, if you want. I know you've had a long evening," she said to Gordan, giving the college student a smile. "I know you have stuff you need to do....like study?"

Gordan grinned back at his boss. "Yeah...right...study on a Friday night? Did you ever?"

Jordan's smile widened. "Well...no....but I like to think you're a better student than I was...."

Gordan shook his head and grabbed his coat. "Nope....just a typical one. Night, boss-lady. See you tomorrow."

Jordan watched him leave. He was a good kid...and a responsible one. With Max still gone, she had needed help like him to keep the Pogue up and running. Her attention was continuously divided...the morgue, the bar, and where was her father....and now Woody. She was grateful for employees like him and Marge. Glancing around the bar, she saw everything was under control. Everything but Woody. It wasn't like him to get drunk...not this drunk. She had seen him get tipsy...even a little giddy....but never drunk. It frightened her to think of what was causing this.

Keeping an eye on him, she tended bar. Finally, around midnight, when things were slowing down a bit, she walked over and sat his last watered-down Scotch in front of him. She had handed him one every time he had called for one that evening. Their eyes had met several times, but neither of them had said a word. "Okay, Hoyt. This is it. It's closing time. Finish that and I'm calling you a cab." Jordan rang the bell to indicate the bar was shutting down. Patrons began to settle up their bill and stagger out into the cold night air. She washed up the glasses and wiped everything down. "Need some help?" he asked, his words slurring a bit.

"Nope. I've got it detective. You just sit tight. I'll deal with you in a minute." She helped Marge and Jimmy put the chairs and barstools up. With Marge then checking up the register and Jim mopping the floors, Jordan knew she could let them lock up and she could get Woody home. Looking at the clock and sighing, she saw it was past one in the morning. It would be quicker for her to take him home than wait on a cab.

"Okay, Hoyt, hand them over."

"Hand over what?"

Jordan impatiently tapped her toes on the floor. "You know, you're keys. I don't want to think that once you're home, you may double back and get your car. So cough them up."

"I wouldn't do that...besides how will I get them back tomorrow?"

"Don't worry about that now...just give me your keys."

Woody fumbled around in his pockets for a few minutes. "I can't find them...you know, you could help me look..." he said, giving her a suggestive stare.

Jordan rolled her eyes. "Keep looking...you're pockets aren't that deep."

Woody chuckled and struggled to stand upright. "Oh...here they are," he said, as he deposited them in her outstretched hand. "Now about my cab..."

"Forget it Farm Boy. I'll be here until two if I wait on a cab. I'll drive you home and make sure safe."

Jordan grabbed his trench coat and his arm and escorted him out the door, up the stairs, and into her SUV. That was a struggle. Then she drove him back to his apartment and went through the whole struggle again as she got him into his room.

"Hoyt, I've never seen you so shit-faced in my life. What is wrong with you?"

The night air and the exercise of getting home was now beginning to sober Woody up just a little. "You...you're what's wrong with me."

Jordan was startled at the admission. Alcohol and sleeping pills worked similarly...the inhibitions were down. Wrestling him to the bedroom, she began to help him out of his clothes. "Don't," he said, as she reached for his shirt.

"Woody, you're too drunk to undress...."

"No, I'm not. I'm not that drunk... not as drunk as I need to be....as I want to be." He pushed her hands away as he undid his tie and threw it across the room and then took his shirt off. Jordan felt her mouth go dry as she looked at his bare chest. She began to back her way out of his room. "Yeah, that's right...you need to leave," she heard him say, as his hands fell to his belt and pants.

"I am...leaving," she replied, nearly making it to the door before Woody grabbed her hand.

"Why do you always run?" he asked, still a little unsteady on his feet.

"You just asked me to leave..."

Woody shook his head. "Why don't you admit that there's something between us....something warm, and strong, and...and." He didn't finish. He tugged a surprised Jordan across the small space between them and brought his lips down on hers.

Jordan's head spun. In no way did she expect this. He had her crushed to him, from her breasts to her thighs. And his hands and arms just kept pulling her closer. She put her hands up to push him away...put some space between them, and encountered his bare chest. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Oh ... she thought, her body softening against his hard one.

Woody recognized her reaction and deepened the kiss, gently catching her lower lip with his teeth. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and he deepened the kiss once again, claiming not only her lips and mouth, but her tongue, rubbing it with his. From somewhere in the distance, Jordan heard herself moan. And then heard warning bells go off in her head...You need to stop...get a grip...this is the Scotch...he doesn't really want this or you...

And she believed that. She really, truly did. Until she felt his hand run down her back and cup her bottom, running across it possessively. "No..." she said, twisting out of Woody's arms. "Not now... not like this."

Woody reached for her again, only to find that she had put too much space between them. "Not now, Jo? Then when?"

"I don't ....I'm not sure...when ... if. But not now, not like this...not with you drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

"Yes, you are....even if we wanted to....you couldn't. The whisky..."

Woody looked at his feet, his cheeks reddening. He knew she was right. He may not be really drunk, but he was close...too close to it to effectively follow through with anything he may want. And the last thing he wanted to do was find her in his bed and then not be able to make love to her. Turning away from her, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling that the apology was totally inadequate...no matter how willing she may have been.

"Get in the bed. Let me make sure you're okay before I leave," she replied softly, walking out of the room quietly and shutting the door. Jordan heard him rustle around the bedroom and then it was still. Gently opening the door, she discovered he had finished undressing and was spread eagle in the bed, sleeping off Johnny Walker. His clothes were in a heap on the floor. She picked them up and hung them in his closet. Walking over to his prone body, she checked to make sure he was fine and would be out most of the night. Placing his car keys on the kitchen counter, she left, vowing not to return to his apartment again...no matter how sick he may be...

Climbing back in her SUV, she made her way home. Switching on the light in her apartment, she saw the roses sitting on the table in her living room. They were still beautiful, giving off that rich, heady smell that roses do as the tight buds were beginning to ease open into blooms. She bent down to smell them...gently touching one of the flowers with her finger. What had Woody been thinking tonight...Well, that was the problem, he wasn't thinking. This time it had been the Scotch. He hadn't told her what was wrong...only that she was the problem. He hadn't really wanted to make love to her tonight...he was frustrated. Any body would have done tonight...hers or anyone else's. Sighing, she got ready for bed. He had pushed her away again....