Woody winced at the pain in his head. Slowly and carefully he lifted it up from the pillows, only to find the room spinning in circles. Moaning, he put his hand to his hair and lowered a foot to the floor to reassure himself that, indeed the room itself was not spinning, it was only his head reacting to the night before.

Last night. Oh, God. How much did he drink? He wasn't sure. He just remembered going to the Pogue and telling Gordan to keep the Scotch coming. And the bartender did. Then there was Jordan. She kept them coming, too. How did he get home? He vaguely remembered her bringing him back to his apartment. And her trying to undress him. And then...Oh, damn, he kissed her, didn't he? Though his mouth felt pasty, he could still taste her...and remember how soft she was...Sweet Mary, he didn't, did he? Pulling the covers back and noting his boxers were still there, he sighed with relief. At least he hadn't complicated matters too much.

Gingerly, he got out of bed and noted the alarm clock -- 6:30 a.m. It was Saturday. He didn't have to be in the office until nine. He showered, shaved, and made coffee. Obviously, Jordan didn't stay the night this time, because he had to make his own coffee. The coffee helped clear the rest of the cobwebs from his still groggy mind. Keys...he had let Jordan have his keys...that meant he had to get them back and then go get his car from the Pogue. Groaning, he flipped his cell phone open and hit her number on speed dial.

"Cavanaugh," came her voice clearly over the line.

"Could you say that a little softer?"

Jordan chuckled. She imagined his hangover would be major this morning after the one he tied on last night. "Sorry," she replied. "What can I do for you today, Sunshine?"

"I seem to vaguely remember handing you my keys last night....any idea how I can get them and get my car back?"

Still chuckling, Jordan replied, "Check your kitchen counter. The keys are to the left of your breadbox." She heard Woody shuffle around until he found them.

"Could I possibly get a ride to the Pogue from you and get my car this morning?"

"Sorry. I've been at work since eight...Garrett is off this weekend. I'm in charge today and Bug's in charge tomorrow. Can't leave the office."

Woody sighed. "Could Nigel...?"

"I'll check. Hold on." He heard her ask the Englishman if he could run an errand for her. When she told him what it was, he heard Nigel howl with laughter. A minute later, Jordan was back on the line. "Yeah...Nige said he be there in a minute."

"Did you have to tell him why Jordan?"

"He would have guessed, Wood. He's handed me his keys a few times, too. How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?"

"God-awful?"

"Yeah."

"Well, drink some orange juice, take some aspirin, and..."

"Call you in the morning?"

"You'll be better by lunch."

Jordan was relieved when he hung up. He deserved the hangover he got...anyone that drank that much Scotch did...but if the last thing he remembered was handing her his car keys, then that was good news....he didn't remember kissing her. At least she hoped he didn't. That could make things even more awkward between them. Especially with the way he really felt about her. Softly tapping the eraser of a pencil on her desk, she thought about everything that had happened between them in the last couple of years. There was that kiss in LA...then everything about trying to find her mother's killer...that was enough in itself to provide enough wear and tear on a relationship to leave it in shambles. Looking back, she should have stopped him. She didn't regret following him to LA for a minute...but she never should have kissed him there in the first place. She wasn't sure what came over her...but that had started a string of events that led him right to where he was today. Needing her out of his life, but either not recognizing it yet or not knowing how to how to tell her.

She had been here before...but usually not on the receiving end of a "Dear Jane" letter. Usually she was the one who had fired off the goodbye missive – just as soon as the man got too close – even Tyler. She got rid of , for sure, but still, she had been the one to initiate it. On thing was for certain. She couldn't and wouldn't let Woody know he was breaking her heart. She would, however, maintain a friendship because they had to work together... and seeing him on at least some level was a lot more appealing than not seeing him at all. For now anyway.

"Love, you all right?" came a British voice from her doorway.

Jordan jumped, startled at the interruption of her own thoughts. "Yeah, Nige...sorry, just thinking."

"You must have been really out of it," he said, as he came into her office and perched on the side of her desk facing her. "I called your name four times and you never heard it." He reached out and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"Did Woody get his car?"

"Uh-huh...What happened?"

"He just really tied one on last night and I made him give me the keys to his car so he wouldn't try to drive. I took him home and he passed out. I knew he was not going anywhere, so I left his keys on the counter."

Nigel chuckled for a moment, then perfectly serious, he asked, "That's really not like Woody...to get totally ripped....I've never seen it happen....Is something wrong?"

"I think so, but I'm not quite sure what to do about it and ....I'm not sure if Woody is aware what it is."

Nigel gave Jordan a pointed look. "And...."

"It's okay...so he's safely back at work?" she replied, changing the subject.

"Delivered to the great and glorious Boston PD without a scratch."

"Thanks Nige," she said as she stood to make her way to Trace Evidence. As she passed by him to go out the door, he called out to her...

"Hey Jordan?"

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Think Woodrow will send me roses for taking him home?"

Jordan felt her cheeks turn bright red. Turning on her heel, she strode down the hall, hearing Nigel laugh behind her all the way. Damn Brit.

For the next three weeks, Jordan saw little of Woody. They either were working different shifts or she didn't catch his calls when he phoned in a homicide. In a way she was relieved. It allowed the tension to die down a little between them ... a tension that was very subtle, but still there. Unless a person knew Jordan and Woody really, really well, he would never suspect there was any problem between the two. They hid any personal issues in the work environment. They may make side comments to each other, it never interfered with the cases...or the victims.As a matter of fact, she was beginning to get a little worried about him...until one Thursday evening he strode into the Pogue near closing time. He sat down on his usual barstool. "Scotch?" Gordan asked him.

"No...give me a beer." Gordan placed the bottle in front of him and went back to wiping glasses. "Is Jordan here?" Woody asked.

"She's in the back...doing inventory. Want me to get her for you?"

"Ummm, no. Do you think she would mind if I went back and talked to her?"

"Don't think so...just don't startle her when you go in...it's dark back there and she may not hear you."

Woody nodded, sat his beer on the bar, and walked back to the storage room. He knocked firmly and opened the door. "Jordan," he called out.

He saw her head pop up over a stack of boxes. "Oh. Hi, Woody," she said, turning her attention back to the clipboard in her hands. "Give me just a minute..." she wrote down a figure and laid the clipboard on the stack of boxes. Sliding her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, she walked over to him. She was wearing a pair of old blue jeans that fit her like a second skin along with a long-sleeved t-shirt. She stopped a few inches away from him and looked up at him. Woody could feel himself melt a little, looking into her eyes. He always did...it was like she saw straight into his soul.

"Something wrong, Wood?" Her voice snapped him out of his reverie. "The Simmons case?" she asked, alluding to the last case they had worked on together. They were having some problems with that one....

"Uh...no. I actually stopped by to tell you that I'm going on vacation for a couple of weeks. I'm leaving all my cases with Lois and Eddie, so if they call you about one of them, it's okay to talk to them."

"Vacation? Where to?"

"Home...I haven't seen my folks in a while."

Kauwanne...Woody was going back to Kauwanne....back to his small Wisconsin-town, with the small town girls that didn't have issues...back to...what was familiar, and warm ...and what he may still want.

"Oh. I know they'll be glad to have some time with you. When are you leaving?"

"I'm flying out tomorrow. I'm going to see the folks for a few days. Then Cal's coming in, so we may do a little fishing...a little hiking..."

Tomorrow. He was leaving tomorrow. So this was goodbye for a while. Getting her voice back, she managed to squeak out, "Sounds like fun. You'll be careful, right?"

Woody smiled down at her. It was hard for him to remember just how tiny Jordan was. She always gave the impression she was much bigger. The truth was, the top of her head barely hit his shoulders. And he would bet, if she would let him, he could just about circle her waist with both of his hands. She looked fragile...but looks were deceiving. She was one of the strongest people he knew. "Yeah," he said, reaching for her hand. "I'll be careful....no sleeping pills, no tea from any little old ladies.....and no Scotch."

Jordan grinned. "That's good. We need you to get to Mama Hoyt in one piece."

Woody laughed. He would love for Jordan to go with him. He knew she had at least five years worth of sick days and vacations days saved up at work...but it was nearly impossible for her to get away from the bar. He knew Max meant well when he left the bar in Jordan's name when he decided to get away for a while. And it had provided her with extra income.

Income that she had no time to spend. Between the morgue and the Pogue, she was consistently tied down. Except for the one Sunday a month she didn't have to work and the bar was always closed on Sunday. It's no wonder we're drifting apart... he thought. She has no time for anyone...even herself. I wonder if she's noticed the dark circles under her eyes or if she knows how tired she really is? He was worried about her...and about them.

"I know Mom will appreciate your efforts," Woody replied.

"Have a great time, Wood. And be careful about old prom dates coming back to haunt you..."

Woody grinned down at her again. "That was a long time ago. I'll have you know that women now appreciate me on many different levels, Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Oh, really...?"

"Yes, really."

"And what would those levels be, Detective Hoyt?" she teased back at him.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?"

"Hmmmm.....I'm not sure."

They both chuckled. It was good to be joking with each other again. Woody missed this exchange with her. The humor they shared seemed to go along way in bringing down any barrier between them. And he loved it when Jordan laughed...especially the deep belly laughs she could give when something struck her especially funny.

"Hey," he said, suddenly serious.

"What?"

"Think I could get a goodbye kiss?"

Jordan hesitated, first thinking about the last kiss they had shared in his bedroom... but then remembered that he didn't recall it because he had been so drunk. Softly smiling at him, she replied, "I guess so...a little one wouldn't hurt."

She leaned forward, eyes, closed, prepared for just a quick peck on the lips. She was surprised when she felt his arms slide around her and tug her to him. No, not this...she thought. This is not good...That was her last coherent thought for the next few minutes as Woody continued to deepen the kiss and pushed her back against the boxes. When he had kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless, he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers while they both steadied their breathing.

"We've got to stop doing this," he murmured in her ear, his lips finding a sensitive spot on her neck.

Unconsciously, she tilted her head to allow him better access. "I know...it can't be good for either one of us..."

"Hm...no," he said, continuing his study of her neck and the hollow at the base of her throat before finding her lips again. "It isn't...it always ends up," he said between kisses, "Like it did that night in my bedroom." He felt Jordan grow still. Pulling away, he pushed a curl behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

"I...I didn't think you remembered that." She felt the heat rise in her cheeks again.

"Jordan, I remember each and every time I kiss you...sober, semi-sober, or completely snackered."

Looking up at him, she echoed his earlier words back to him. "We've got to stop, Woody."

"Why? We're both adults...it's apparent there's some kind of desire here."

"Because...we've just got to."

"No, Jordan. Give me one good reason. We both know a lot of the tension between the two of us is sexual attraction. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Because it isn't enough...that isn't enough...one or both of us will end of getting hurt..." she looked down at the floor, "And I couldn't handle either one of us hurting."

Woody cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "So that's why you just want to be friends?"

Jordan nodded, still trying to avoid those blue eyes that could leave her tongue-tied. "Yeah..."

Woody was quiet for a moment, then let out a deep sigh. "What brought this on?"

Jordan wasn't about to tell him what he had said to her those nights in his apartment...to go away, she needed to leave...he evidently didn't remember any of that. Maybe, after some time had passed, she could tell him without dissolving into tears. But if she cried now, he may feel sorry for her, and the last thing she wanted from Woody was his pity. That would be the death knell to anything they had – including friendship. "Oh, come on Woody," she finally managed to get out. "We both know that anything between us wouldn't last. So why start something that may ultimately end up biting us in the butt?"

He released her so suddenly she nearly lost her footing and fell. He walked over to the door to leave. With his back still to her, he replied, "If that's the way you feel, Jo....but just one thing."

"What?"

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes slightly glazed, whether with tears or pain or relief, she couldn't tell. "We're friends...always. Forever. Right?"

She nodded. He turned and left.

When she was sure he was gone, when she heard the front door close, she left the storage room and walked into the bar. It was empty now. Gordan, Marge, and the rest of the crew had left, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her pain. She walked over to the front door, locked it, and turned over the closed sign. Going back to the bar, she poured herself a double and let the tears come.

She had done the right thing, letting him go. For herself and him. It would save them even more pain later on. He may not have consciously realized it yet, but she wasn't right for him...He was going back to Wisconsin. Maybe he needed a small-town girl. Maybe he needed Annie again. She swallowed the rest of her whiskey in gulp over that thought. She sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. One thing she did know. She had come to loved him. She had fought it. Hell, she was still fighting it. But because she loved him, she was trying to do what was best for him. And she wasn't the best...at least not for him, anyway. If for anyone.