Author's Note: I have been trying so hard to make sure my story follows what goes on during the show, but I needed to stray this week. I hope you all like it. –Jac

Woody's POV

I didn't expect to have to remember my father. I led this picture perfect life. No one ever thought to question my home life. No one ever thought to ask what my father did or what my mother looked like. They weren't questions that came up in normal conversation, but I did have the reasonable expectation that when people got close enough, they should start learning who you are. Boston; no one in Boston ever bothered to let me get close enough. Well, Jordan got close enough, but I had effectively destroyed that. I knew I had. I saw the way that she looked at me.

Home was a very lonely place. I wasn't even sure where home was anymore. I always thought of Annie as home; she was stable and constant. Even after I left, I thought of Annie as home. She was all I really had left in Wisconsin. Wisconsin was a lonely place. I went back once or twice a year to see their graves. I don't think anyone noticed the consistency of my absence. It was always the same days every year. I wondered how people trained to have an observant eye could be so blind.

I didn't want to be alone. I spent most of my life wondering why exactly I needed to be alone. I missed my mother. I missed her so dearly. I did understand why Jordan suffered so much; I suffered in much the same way. I understood; I understood how much it hurt. I wanted to tell her; I've been trying to tell her. I've struggled with the decision a million times. That's the only reason I wanted to be the one to return the locket; Eddie said that he could do it, but I couldn't let him. I wanted to; I knew how much those small tokens meant. I had a few of my own that I would always guard with my life.

Jordan avoided me most of the time. It got better once Devan left, but Jordan began to spend most of her time with Garrett and Nigel. There were occasionally rumors at the station that Jordan was dating. I was too damn caught up on Annie that I barely noticed how much Jordan had changed. God . . . she was becoming a beautiful woman. Eddie had commented on the new found balance in Jordan's life. I felt as though my eyes were closed; I was so blind to the situation.

I had been standing outside the Pogue for what felt like hours. It was freezing. It was one of the coldest days of the year. It was just about bar time. I could still hear voices inside; they were that of Jordan and Nigel. She was laughing. I hadn't heard that laugh in so long. It was almost musical, but it made me even sadder than I already was.

I struggled with the decision to talk to Jordan. I wasn't sure if she would listen to me. It took me weeks to get to the point that I believed that Jordan at least deserved some kind of explanation. From there, it was Jordan's decision as to what to do.

I watched them through the glass. They were dancing; she was laughing as Nigel twirled her around the dance floor. Her eyes were dancing. They were all lit up; I could see the happiness from out on the street. They weren't Annie's eyes, but I still missed them so much. I missed the comfort I often sought in Jordan. I royally screwed this up.

"Hey, the bar's closed," I heard Jordan say to me.

"I'm sorry . . . I guess I'm just really good at waiting until things are too late," I stammered. I couldn't believe that I said that; it sounded so inept. Maybe I was as inept as my words.

"It's not too late, Woody. Come in for a drink. You look cold," Jordan said as she held the door open for me. I didn't deserve this kind of kindness . . . not after how I have acted.

"Are you sure?" I asked. I cursed myself for sounding so damn stupid.

"Yeah, Nigel and I were just starting to close up the shop," Jordan said. Sometimes she frustrated me; I wanted her to yell at me. I wanted her to be mad at me; I had been so awful to her. It only took six weeks for me to figure out how I have mistreated her.

"Jordan, I really came here to talk to you," I said. I was still standing outside; she began to pull me into the vacant bar.

"Hey, love. I'm going to get going," Nigel said as he kissed her cheek, "Are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Pick me up early so we have time to go shopping," Jordan replied with a wink and a smile. God . . . I was probably too late.

"Okay, love. Woodrow, make sure she gets into her car safely. This isn't the greatest neighborhood," Nigel explained as he waved and walked out into the cold.

"You and Nigel?" I asked.

"Are planning a surprise party for Garrett's twentieth year working for the Boston office of criminal investigation," Jordan said as she locked the front door.

"Oh . . . I heard rumors. I assumed . . .," I rambled.

"So you haven't heard what they say about assuming," Jordan replied as she headed over to the bar. She pulled a Guinness from the ice chest.

"Sorry. You know . . . I should go," I stammered.

"No, we should talk. I think we waited long enough already," Jordan replied. I wanted to curse her for being such an adult. It made it so much harder to stand in front of her right now.

"Jordan, I'm sorry," I replied as I sat down and accepted the beer.

"Don't be sorry. I just want you to know that I respect your decision to move on with life. Whatever we had or didn't have doesn't really matter anymore . . . I just would like us to maintain a good working relationship, if not a friendship," Jordan replied. It sounded so rehearsed, but I figured that I have given her weeks to think of the words and perfect the delivery.

"I'm not much different than you, Jordan; I just do a better job of hiding it," I replied. It sounded cold. The last thing I wanted to do right now is come off as cold. I wanted to rehabilitate. I wanted to rehabilitate the way Jordan had begun to heal herself. I had so many wounds that I spent years licking. The wounds never seemed to mend themselves.

"Woody, I don't understand," Jordan replied as she stopped cleaning up behind the bar and stopped to give me her full attention. She looked so beautiful; her hair was pinned up on her head. It was wavy; she knew that I liked her hair when she let it be natural.

"Jordan, everyone has the perception of me being perfect. I'm not . . . everything about me as fallen short of perfect. I just pretend that my life is perfect. I always figured that if I believed it enough . . . it would come true," I rambled.

"Nobody is perfect . . . I don't think anyone ever asked you to be perfect," Jordan replied. She sounded so empathetic, as if she knew how awful I was feeling. I struggled to maintain the conversation.

"Jordan, nothing about me is perfect. My mother and father are dead. I raised my younger brother. Annie got married a month ago. I promised myself that I would make something of myself, but I've always fallen short. My life is a mess and there's nothing that I can do to fix that," I ranted. Jordan rested one of her hands on mine.

"I never knew," she whispered. Her lips were the color of a rich red wine.

"You never asked," I replied. I looked down at my drink. It was hard to begin to open up the past regrets; it was so much easier to just pretend that they didn't exist.

"I didn't. I'm sorry, Woody," Jordan replied. I didn't need for her to feel sorry for me, but I knew she only said that because she understood. Children that have lost parents know a hurt that so few people will ever feel . . . she knew that hurt. Jordan knew how I was feeling.

"I don't tell people because then they ask me about how they died . . . they suffered, Jordan. I want to forget how much they suffered. I was there for every moment of their suffering. My only memories of my mother are of tubes and chemotherapy. When I was four years old, I knew what chemotherapy was . . . I also knew what it felt like to have my bone marrow harvested," I rambled.

"Woody, you don't have to talk," Jordan replied. She was holding my hand . . . gently caressing my hand with her thumb.

"Jordan, I didn't mean to stand you up. I thought I called you . . . I couldn't leave my apartment that night. I was too damn drunk to move," I said. I knew I owed her an explanation. I was just having a hard time getting to the explanation and the apology.

"Water under the bridge . . . it's been long since forgotten," Jordan replied. She tried to smile at me, but it ended up looking awkward and uncomfortable.

"Jordan, I got this letter from Annie . . . she married my best friend. Jordan, I ran from Wisconsin. I didn't leave on good terms with . . . anyone. I asked Annie's father if I could marry her. He said that she wouldn't marry someone that was satisfied with just being a cop. I loved her so much . . . I loved her since I was a kid. I thought she would love me back . . . I thought her family had accepted me for who I was, but I was wrong. Running didn't make me love her less . . . I just loved her from far away. Then . . . then I met you. Jordan, I thought I was falling in love with you. It scared the hell out of me. Each time I wanted to move forward . . . I felt you pull back. The minute you wanted to move forward . . . the whole Devan debacle started," I tried to explain. My words flowed so quickly . . . I wasn't sure if Jordan even understood a word that I said.

"I didn't think that it was a debacle," Jordan commented.

"Annie had these eyes . . . they were the same gray-blue that Devan's were. Devan's eyes were comforting . . . she didn't mean a thing, but her eyes meant something to me that I hadn't felt since the last time I saw Annie. Devan only used me to get herself more cases. I was stupid, Jordan," I replied.

"No, you were lost. It's hard to be lost. I was lost for years, but I just needed to start realizing that there were certain things that just aren't meant to be. No matter what I did . . . I couldn't give my mother the justice she deserved . . . I could never make James love me . . . I could never be the daughter that my father wanted. The only thing I could do was be happy with who I am," Jordan calmly explained. She had gained so much wisdom. I was momentarily jealous of the freedom that her realization had brought her.

"Jordan, do you think that we are one of the things that isn't meant to be?" I asked.

"I don't know. We tried for so long, but life always seemed to get in the way," Jordan replied.

"I know we did," I replied. She looked beautiful. Her eyes could easily render me speechless if I gazed into them for too long.

"I think you need to come to terms with who you are and who you can't be," Jordan replied. I knew this was her kind way of telling me that I need to get myself together before I could be with anyone else. I knew that was the right thing to do, but I didn't want to be alone. I hated to be alone with my thoughts.

"I know, but don't you ever get sick of being alone?" I asked.

"I know I'm never alone because I have friends that I love like family . . . I have a fish that I've been fattening over the last few weeks . . . I always have my mother and my father even if they can't be with me," Jordan replied. She dropped her head, expertly avoiding my stare. I could hear a slight falter in her voice. I knew the last comment saddened her; the truth always hurt so much more when it was said out loud.

"I don't have any of that," I replied. I was acutely aware of how isolated I had become since moving to Boston.

"I think you just don't realize what you have," Jordan replied.

"I think I am an expert at screwing up what I have," I replied.

"Woody, this time . . . I think it's your friends that let you down," Jordan replied.

"I should get going," I said as I suddenly became self-conscious. The room felt a little too small for my liking.

"You need to stay. Someone always locks up with me . . . I guess I'm still a little afraid of the dark," Jordan replied. Her head was still hung low . . . I'm sure that after being assaulted in her own home, she had the right to still be afraid of the dark.

"Thank you," I replied.

"Woody, thank you for being honest with me," Jordan replied as she lifted her head. I could see the wet trails the tears left as they glided over her cheeks.

"Jordan, I don't want to be alone tonight," I said. I didn't know exactly what I meant; from the look on Jordan's face, she didn't know either, "Please don't make me go to my empty apartment. I don't even have a damn fish to fatten."

"You can come home with me tonight," Jordan replied tentatively . . . I knew she was scared of these feelings. I was scared of them too. There were so many things that I was afraid of . . . right now I was most afraid of being alone.