Haley's POV:

Firestarter had struck again; it was a little after three in the morning. I collected Jordan at five in the morning, once the six alarm fire had ceased. I was surprised to see Hoyt asleep in her bed; she said that it was temporary. I didn't push for more information. She said that he was refusing to leave without her; I had heard that he was suspended for another week. I wondered if Jordan would be able to delve into the Firestarter if he was here; I knew that she would eventually find out that I strongly suspected Cal.

The embers were still warm; we hadn't found bodies this time. I was thankful that we didn't find bodies. Jordan asked why I didn't call out a crime scene unit; I told her that she needed to understand the crime scene even if she could not analyze it. It was the same as always. Gasoline and a rudimentary incendiary device; it was a drop day. I'm sure that the shipment of cocaine made its way out of some remote dock or warehouse while the entire city was trying to put out the fire in the abandoned hotel. Hookers littered the street; homeless people watched the commotion.

Today, Jordan would meet the crime scene investigator that she would be working with. I hoped that she would give him her full cooperation. It might be the first time that I would get to see Jordan cooperate with something other than her own free will.

"Haley, there had to be accelerants. The point of origin is right over by the front door . . . someone didn't want to be here when this big boy lit up," she commented.

"There always is. Jordan, why do people set fires?" I asked her; I knew I would end up reciting the answer, but I wanted her to start getting into the mind of the Firestarter.

"Revenge, thrill-seeking," Jordan replied.

"I think Firestarter uses it as a diversion," I replied.

"Why?" Jordan replied. She looked intrigued; it was sexy how she arched her eyebrows.

"The second and fourth Tuesdays of the month are called a drop day. Drop day is when cocaine is distributed. It's nice to have law enforcement sequestered in the polar opposite side of the city . . . or that's at least my best guess," I said. Jordan nodded. She looked angry.

"Why do you need me? This isn't a case where your bodies are going to help you," Jordan commented.

"Jordan, I need your brain . . . your deductive reasoning. I need you to take care of the science, so I can work on the profile. You're going to be working with one of the best forensic scientists in California," I said. I knew she would rather be working with her own team. "Dr. Josh Bennett. Jordan, I need you two to help me."

Jordan looked like she recognized the name. She looked willing. She almost looked excited to be working, but I figured she might just need a break from Woody. Woody seemed to complicate everything beyond my wildest imagination. I didn't want this situation to emulate the one involving James; the one that Jordan was trying to nicely tuck away.

"Wow . . . I guess you really pulled out the big guns for this one," Jordan replied with a smile. I helped her negotiate some of the debris; she leaned on me a lot like she did the other evening. I liked Jordan; I liked her enough to keep tabs on her while she was still working in Boston. It was amazing how much information you could get with a simple telephone call; I never called her . . . I called the Boston branch of the FBI. They all knew Jordan well; I understood why. Moth to a flame; it was so tempting to get close to her even if I got burnt.

"Dr. Cavanaugh, let me drive you back to your hotel. I'll pick you up at nine sharp," I replied as we walked out of the skeleton of the abandoned hotel, "Now, it is time for the CSIs to come in and gather evidence for you and Josh."

"What do I do with Woody for the day?" Jordan asked. I knew why she asked; I had reminded her that this was all classified. I honestly didn't know what to do with Woody either; I had contemplated involving him in the case . . . just busy work. I figured that would be enough to keep him busy; I had toyed with the idea of requesting he work with the Sunset Division for a week. I just didn't want him to tip-off Cal; I needed both of them to always be in my line of site. Cal had lost his tail last night; the agent that lost him was going to have hell to pay . . . I needed to know where he was 24/7. It would either give him an alibi or provide some circumstantial evidence to support my profile.

"I'll have a rental car dropped off . . . he could look for a less seedy hotel. Jordan, this is on the government. You should stay somewhere comfortable," I replied as I opened the car door for her. She brushed up against me for a moment; it brought back so many memories. I liked the way she felt; I often dreamed of how she felt.

"Sounds good. Thank you so much for being so accommodating," Jordan said with a smile. I closed her door and made my way into the driver's seat; I liked to be in control.

"Jordan, anything to keep you on the case. May I ask what exactly is the circumstances . . . you and Woody?" I asked. That was the most inept sentence that I ever managed to put together.

"Friends . . . maybe drowning medical examiner and life raft," Jordan replied. 'Complicated' would have sufficed, but I did appreciate her honesty.

"What do you know about Cal Hoyt?" Jordan asked. Her question took me by surprise.

"Sunset Division . . . a little rough around the edges," I replied. I could tell her now or I could tell her later. I thought telling her later would probably be the way to handle this one.

"Any mental disease?" Jordan asked. I wondered what she was trying to get at. "When I met him today . . . he was acting like a full blown manic. I don't think Woody knew what it was either."

"Oh. I'll send some feelers out this morning," I replied. I had barely managed to get myself out of this situation. I was glad that the fire was only ten minutes away from the dumpy little hotel that she was staying in.

"Go get some sleep, Jordan," I instructed as she got out. She smiled and waved at me. I wished Jordan was less complicated; I wished that I hadn't told her that I thought she might be good for me. I watched her walk away; I hoped she wouldn't get hurt in the mess that was only beginning.

Woody's POV:

I heard her come in. I rolled over to see that it is only six thirty; I sit up a little bit. Jordan pulls her clothes off. She's sleeping in a bra and panties. I want to yelled at her for tempting me, but I take solace in the fact that she is even comfortable enough to do that around me . . . especially after I inadvertently said the 'L-word' yesterday.

"Hey," I manage to say as she slides into bed next to me.

"It was bad, Woody. It was bad," Jordan replies. It must be devastating for her to see the aftermath of fire; she's probably thinking about how lucky she was that the only remnants of her mother's fires are the small scars on her hands. It could easily have been her life.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked as she pulls the covers towards her side of the bed. I wished she would just roll closer to me and share the covers.

"Yeah, I'm going to try to get a little more sleep before I go to work," Jordan replied. She rolled closer to me when she realized that I was barely covered by the sheets. "I haven't had to share in a really long time." It's an awkward statement; I had a hard time imagining Jordan ever sharing her bed. Jordan didn't like commitment; I hoped someday that would change.

"Oh. Okay . . . I can go get breakfast while you shower," I offered. It was the least I could do; I was surprised that she hadn't kicked me out of her hotel room yet. I was hoping that I wouldn't wear out my welcome before the last seven days of my suspension.

"That would be good. You should go find a nicer hotel for us to stay in; Haley is going to have a rental car dropped off for you today," Jordan replied as she struggled to get comfortable. With that she was out like a light. All I could do was stare at her; she could probably feel my eyes all over her body, but I couldn't help myself.

I wasn't sure when I realized that I loved Jordan. I think it was when James had Jordan trapped in that squad car; I remember wondering what I would do if I lost her. I came close to losing her that night; I came closer to losing her when she ran. I tried to do what was best for her; I wasn't lying when I said that the job didn't matter. I knew how much it hurt to lose your parents; I was thankful that my loss was easy to resolve. My mother died of cancer and my father's murderer had committed suicide in the jail. Jordan was lost in a dangerous limbo of loving too little and loving too much. I wished that she would understand that it was the disease that made her mother hurt her; I wished Jordan would understand that she didn't owe her mother a damn thing.

Out of the all the places to run, I couldn't understand why she chose the FBI. Leave it to Jordan to chose a job that is about a million times more dangerous than being a medical examiner in Boston; I wished she valued her life the way I did.

"Please keep her safe," I whispered, but I didn't know who I was asking.