Nigel's POV:

"Jordan, I want you to know that I think you did a great thing. You gave that family resolution; sometimes, that is so much more than a conviction," I said as I walked out of her office. I thought that I heard her say 'I know.' It felt good to see Jordan begin to rehabilitate. It was good for her to get away from Boston; it was good for her to give her time to families that otherwise wouldn't have a voice. I admired Jordan. I admired how she fought for the victims. This was the first time that I saw Jordan fight in a healthy, constructive manner.

Jordan had begun to change. I could see it in her eyes. The demons were beginning to fade; she smiled. There was a peacefulness that she began to portray. The peacefulness was shaken by the robber, but Jordan had begun to talk. I never knew the girl could talk as much as she did. It was good for her; it was good for her to talk about how much she missed her mother or how much she missed Max. I went to a memorial for James; Jordan sat stoically listening to the priest give a short tribute to the audience of three people.

Garrett said that it was important for her to have stability. I had been more than happy to spend time with this 'new' Jordan. She was funny. I never knew her as anything other than cynical, but she was hilarious. When she was bartending, she would occasionally tell jokes that the patrons had told her. She could tell a joke like no other; there was something about the way that her eyes would light up. It was almost magical.

Jordan told me about her situation with Woodrow. I couldn't blame her for wanting to move on. They danced around their feelings for so long; sometimes the fire grows cold long before it ever started. Jordan bravely forged ahead, despite Devan constantly reminding her about what she could have had. Jordan smiled bravely at the blonde; I would page Jordan if I ever saw Devan talking to her for more than a few minutes. Jordan said that she didn't even know what she could do to thank me. I said that it was okay . . . I would try to think of something . . . I suggested her dressing up in a maid uniform and cleaning my apartment. Jordan laughed; she didn't get offended like I expected her to. It was easy to fall in love with the easy going Jordan.

"Was your trip good?" Woodrow asked. He looked weary and his attire was in disarray. It was rather uncharacteristic of the young detective.

"It was. It was a good trip. Is there something I can do to help you?" I asked as I sat down at my computer. I was looking forward to checking my email and going home to sleep in my own bed.

"No, I just wanted to see if you had a good trip," Woodrow replied. I know I looked at him funny. I didn't associate with Woodrow outside of work and occasional drinks after work at the Pogue. We didn't have friendly banter anymore; that ended promptly when Devan started working at the morgue. I didn't have the desire to forge any relationship with Devan or those close to her. There was just something about Devan that I couldn't handle . . . how manipulative she was; that was what I really hated. I hated how she manipulated Woodrow . . . in turn causing Jordan to suffer.

"Oh. Well, I need to get home . . . I'm a little tired," I said, but I wondered why I was trying to justify the reason to Woodrow.

"Nigel, how's Jordan doing?" He asked. He looked desperate. He almost looked akin to a caged animal. I wondered what on Earth was going on with him. I felt sorry for him; I couldn't imagine what it felt like to have Devan . . . and then lose her. I was pretty sure that there was an element of masochism there. I wondered what hurt more . . . having Devan or losing Devan.

"She's good. She's probably in her office yet . . . or Dr. Macy's office," I replied. I wasn't sure if I should have told him where Jordan was, "Jordan's really doing well. She's happy."

That probably wasn't the right thing to say. His face became so sullen.

"Hey, Nig . . . guess who's last day is tomorrow," Jordan said as she flew into my office . . . stopping short of knocking Woodrow over. She looked embarrassed; the only reason she would be so excited is if it was Devan's last day tomorrow. Woodrow would know. I'm not sure if that was a good thing for him or a bad thing.

"It's Devan last day tomorrow. She's at home packing today," Woodrow said. Jordan turned beet red; I looked down at the floor.

"I didn't know that you were here," Jordan said a little shocked, "I'm really sorry, Woody."

"It's okay," Woody said as he turned away to leave. He seemed to linger a few moments before leaving. I think he was waiting for someone to say something; Jordan looked like she was at a loss for words. We watched him leave my office and make a bee line towards the elevators.

"I see you two have resolved all your issues," I sarcastically commented.

"Oh, yeah, Nigel. Woody and I are like this," she fired back as she crossed her fingers.

"Did you ever plan on talking to him again? You could at least walk away with a good friendship," I replied.

"There never seems to be a right time. Maybe this is a good thing . . . you know . . . I can finally move on and start dating," Jordan replied she tried to smile, but she looked so conflicted.

"Maybe, but you might not want to be so quick to throw things away," I replied as I gathered some of my mail from my inbox.

"I need to find someone that believes in me and accepts me for who I am and all the crazy, stupid things I sometimes do," Jordan replied, "I don't think he can do that. You know what he told me about the robber . . . he totally blew it off. You'd think after how many years of knowing me and the only day I've ever taken off . . . you'd think that he'd know that it was the anniversary of my mother's death. You'd think maybe he might show some compassion."

She looked so hurt. Jordan looked like she was reduced to an angry child; so lost and so scared. I couldn't believe that she was crying. I guess this was one of the only issues that she still needed to come to terms with. I held her; I closed my office door and kept telling her that things would get better. I told her that there was nothing wrong with moving on. I held her for what seemed like hours . . . in reality it was only fifteen minutes.

"Thanks, Nigel. I don't know what I would do without you," Jordan whispered. She kissed my cheek and asked about going out for lunch tomorrow to celebrate. I readily agreed. She was so brave; I'm not sure if she ever realized how brave she was.