It was late....at least late for Woody. He was supposed to be off three hours ago...but he wasn't. A homicide had been called in at four...an hour before he was supposed to get off. The body had been processed and taken to the morgue. Jordan had answered the call. Now Woody was on his way over to see what the preliminary reports said about the murder.

"Hey, Lily," he called out, reaching the morgue doors, "where's my body?"

"Autopsy one."

He hadn't been to the morgue as much as he usually did...seeing Jordan was now both wonderful and torture at the same time....he still loved her... still wanted to be with her....but knowing how she felt, or at least how she thought she felt, about him was difficult. He was trying to be patient...trying to give her time...but it was hard. He pushed open the doors to the autopsy room. "Hey, Jordan....what's the news?"

"I don't know...you'd have to ask Jordan," Garrett replied.

Woody stopped in his tracks. "I thought Jordan was doing my autopsy."

"She went home... She's not feeling well."

"Oh....then what do you have?"

"Not a lot right now....still doing prelims....interesting knife wounds, though. I think they used a hunting knife. I'm going to let Nigel deal with that tomorrow."

Woody nodded. "Ummm, did Jordan go home or try to go into the Pogue?"

"I think she went home...to try to get to feeling better so she could go in."

Woody turned on his heel and headed out. He'd try her apartment first and then the bar. Fifteen minutes later, he was standing outside the red door of her apartment, banging with his fist. "Jordan, open up, it's me...."

He could hear her shuffling around inside and a few moments later, she slowly opened the door. "Woody? What are you doing here?"

Woody was startled to see the change in Jordan from this afternoon. She was pale and clammy. At the homicide scene, she had been fine. "I came to check on you. Garrett told me you weren't feeling well...you got sick really quick."

Opening the door a little wider for him to come in, she nodded, making her way back over to her couch where she had been laying down. There was a bottle of ginger ale and some saltine crackers on the table. "You've been sick to your stomach, haven't you?" he asked.

She nodded, lying back down. He felt her forehead. "No fever..."

"Thank you, Dr. Hoyt," she said sarcastically. She was tired. And sick. And she had just been through the same scenario with Garrett."

"Hey, I let you examine me..."

"Yeah, but I'm a doctor."

"And I'm a concerned...." He bit back the word. He wanted to say lover, boyfriend, but knew that would make her bristle.... "friend," he emphasized.

"No need to get your knickers in a twist....I think it's the corned beef on rye I ate for lunch today."

"Is there anything you need...anything I can get you?"

Jordan sighed and sat back up to face him. "No...I'll be okay. Just trying to get things settled back down so I can head into the Pogue in a while."

"You know all you have to do is call and Marge will handle it."

"That's just it....her sister's sick and I gave her the rest of the week of to go be with her in Baltimore...Gordan and Jimmy can't handle it by themselves."

Woody hesitated. He knew nothing about bars...but still made the offer, "I could handle it for you tonight..."

Jordan shook her head. "Nah. I'll be fine....I think." Another wave of nausea hit her and she ran for the bathroom, barely making it in time. She had never felt this sick. This would be the last time she ordered deli food from the new place across the street from the morgue. Finally, relieving her stomach of absolutely anything else, she stood and splashed her face with cold water and brushed her teeth. She had to make it in tonight...although right now all she wanted to do was sleep. Crawl back in the bed. Pull a pillow over her head and not come out until tomorrow morning. Gingerly she made her way to her bedroom, only to find Woody perched on the side of her bed.

"I don't think you should go in."

"I'll be fine...I think it's over now, anyway."

"Jordan...." His voice held a warning note.

"Honestly, Woody....I have to," her voice wobbled. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Don't you understand, I have to. It's my responsibility. It's my bar...mine now...."

It hit Woody then how utterly alone Jordan felt since Max's death. Even when Max was in Ireland, at least Jordan knew he was coming home at some point...he was there....if she absolutely needed him, she could get in touch with him. Only now she had no one...or at least felt like she had no one. And all the weight of her world was on her shoulders alone. Getting up off the bed, he came over to where she was standing in her tiny walk-in closet, rummaging through it, trying to find something to wear. Softly he spoke, "I could do it, Jo... I could handle it tonight."

Jordan didn't even turn around at the sound of his voice, trying to continue to will her unruly stomach back in line and concentrate on getting dressed. She pulled her shirt off, grabbed a pair of jeans, and turned around to reach for a shirt. And ran straight into Woody.

He caught her by the arms, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of her clad only in her shorts and her lacy bra....Sternly telling himself that she was ill, he took the shirt out of her shaking hands and pulled it on over her head. "Get dressed," he said gruffly. "You're going to catch a cold on top of everything else if you're not careful." He backed out into the bedroom.

Jordan pulled on her jeans and shoved her feet in her shoes, all the time feeling a blush build on her cheeks. She didn't know why she should feel so awkward....Woody had seen her in less....much less. "That's okay...I can manage," she said. She walked over to the kitchen counter to get her purse and keys when she remembered his Christmas gift. She stopped him before he could get to her apartment door. "Woody, wait..."

Woody paused a moment, his hand on the doorknob. He saw her go back into her bedroom and come out with a package. "Here," she said, handing him the present. "Merry Belated Christmas....you never did come by and get it..."

"Jordan, I don't think I should..."

"No. I want you to have it. I really, really do. I know you'll enjoy it....Look I need to run because Jimmy and Gordan are going to be looking for you lock up behind me?" And with that she fled her apartment. She felt awkward...she didn't know why....it wasn't necessarily because Woody saw her in her near-birthday suit...Maybe it was the gift...what if he didn't like it? Worse yet, what if he refused it? She didn't want to know. She rode the elevator down and climbed in her car, relieved that finally her stomach was feeling settled. She pulled out of her parking spot and headed towards the Pogue.

Back at the apartment, Woody examined the package, slowly undoing the bow and tearing off the paper. Carefully, he lifted the lid of the box. He sighed when he saw the jacket...she spent a small fortune on it...it was a genuine leather jacket...He took it out of the box and tried it on. It fit perfectly...and smelt like leather and Jordan...her perfume lingered on it. Determinedly, he flipped off the lights and locked her door. He was going to the Pogue to make sure her stomach remained under control.

She saw him when he came in...he evidently gone home to change out of his suit...he was now clad in faded jeans, a shirt, and the jacket. He took his usual place at the bar. "Scotch?" Gordan asked. He always felt a little apprehensive when Woody showed up at the bar...that usually meant either one of two things...either sparks were going to fly at some point between Jordan and Woody or his boss-lady would end up fighting back the tears before the night was over. He wished these two would either settle their differences or break completely up....the saga of Jordan and Woody was reading like an old soap opera script to him....

"Yeah, single...and only one, please, Gordan." His eyes were on Jordan, who was delivering orders to another table and fending off some big guy's advances. His fingers tightened around his glass.

"Don't worry...she can handle herself. That's old man Kody. He does this all the time to her...." Gordan confided to Woody. "Actually, he's all bark and no bite. If he was the least bit dangerous, she'd have kicked him out a long time ago."

Woody watched as Jordan did put the man in his place and make her way back down to the bar. "What's up Farm Boy? Didn't want to go back home?"

Woody shook his head. "Wanted to check on you...make sure you were still okay...and thank you for my jacket...it's wonderful."

"I'm glad you like it, Wood...and glad it fits...you look good in it."

"You shouldn't have done it, Jordan," he said softly. "I mean, it's a little much for just friends." This time when he said the word friends, it didn't carry the heat, the anger with him it usually did.

"No it's not....I wanted to do it."

"Why, Jo?"

"Because...because," she hesitated. She couldn't tell him that...she couldn't. "Because you've helped me out so much this year...with dad...and everything. It was the least I could do."

"Yeah, but I didn't deserve this."

Jordan was shocked. "Of course you did..." Just then Gordan called her over... there was a problem with register. She found herself involved with that, then there was one thing after another until midnight. She didn't see Woody again until closing. She checked out the register, locked the money in the safe, and found Woody waiting to walk her out to her car.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded. She was tired...between work, her round of nausea, and the Pogue, she was ready for bed. He took her by the arm and walked with her out the back door, pausing only to lock it behind them. "Your tummy still okay?"

"Yeah. It's stopped playing Mount Vesuvius."

Woody chuckled. "Well, corned beef on rye can be dangerous." He paused before he opened the door of her car for her, looking deep in to her eyes. "Be careful going home....get some rest." He gently trailed a finger down the side of her face.

Jordan caught her breath, almost feeling tears come to her eyes at his gentle gesture. She knew he had meant it only to be comforting, but she couldn't help but remember the officers....the ones that had met such untimely deaths in the past few weeks. What would she do without this man? How would she cope if anything happened to him? Sometimes the love she felt for him almost staggered her. But he must never know...if he did, he may feel he had to love her back...an obligation....one that would do nothing but hurt both of them. Especially when she was so sure that he knew...knew somehow, she wasn't right for him.

"I will...you do the same."

Woody nodded and opened her car door. When he was sure she was buckled in, he shut it and put his hand up to the window. "Good night, Jordan."

She waved. He watched her drive off in the night, her headlights glowing in the wet darkness. Standing alone in the parking lot of the bar, he took in a deep breath...one that lingered with the smell of beer, leather.....and her.