Author's Note:  I promise I will try to weave this back to a happy Woody-Jordan ending.  It's been really hard to work off the holes in the episodes and  still make this story happy (Why do the writers have to make Woody such an jerk on the show?).  Let me know what you all think.

Jordan's POV:

The flight home seemed to take about a hundred hours longer than the flight to Vegas. Woody sat next to me silently. I wished that I hadn't gone. That city was nothing short of a curse for me. Every boyfriend I've gone there with had gotten lost in something uniquely Vegas . . . drugs, exotic dancers, gambling. Every minute I was there; well, I couldn't stand Woody over ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent of the time I was mad at Sam.

I wasn't exactly pleased with myself either. I hadn't planned to go undercover with Danny; I didn't know that betting your wife on a hand of poker was something that was regularly done in Vegas. I guess it didn't surprise me. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. I thought that was a load of crap because my indiscretions and Woody's indiscretions were following us home.

So what do two grown-ups do when they have a luxury suite to themselves for thirty minutes . . . the hidden camera was enough to put some extra pressure on us. Kissing Danny was different than kissing Woody. I was preoccupied with the case the entire time. I told myself that it was for the camera; I told myself to play along so some weird balding guy doesn't come into the room shooting. It was hard to kill thirty minutes only kissing. The sex was awkward; two people that didn't want anything to do with each other . . . two people lying next to each other wondering if this would indeed stay behind the black lacquered doors. I didn't want to be there; Danny didn't want to be there. Before I left, Danny told me that the tape was taken care of. I thanked God that I wouldn't have to see myself show up in some cheesy porn film. I didn't want Woody to have to hear about that either. My indiscretion was safe, but Sam managed to open her fat mouth about Woody's little indiscretion. I don't think he knew about Danny and I, but I was pretty sure that he knew I knew what he did while I was working. I reasoned that Woody could have said no but I had a lot more to lose by saying no. Either way, we were both wrong.

Every time Woody and I got close to being happy, something came up to tear us apart. Two days ago, Woody was sleeping my bed. Two days ago, I was nothing short of blissfully happy for the first time in my life. I wondered when this whole relationship thing was supposed to get easy; Dad told me that loving should be easy . . . that was a load of crap if I had ever heard one. I wasn't sure what would happen when we got home; I was pretty sure that it would be the same awkwardness that Devan created. It had taken so much to get to a point where I could begin to trust Woody; that was effectively obliterated.

The Monicito was kind enough to fly us on their private jet. Ed said that it was the least he could do to repay me for all the hard work that I did. I thanked him and told him it wasn't necessary, but Ed told me to "take the damn jet, Jordan." It was something my father would say. I got on the jet with Woody.

"Cavanaugh," I said as I answered the in-flight phone.

"Jordan, it's Danny. I just wanted to make sure that your flight was going okay," he said nervously. He must have felt as crappy as I did.

"Yeah, it's good. It's a good flight," I replied. I wasn't sure exactly how I was supposed to reply.

"Jordan, remember it stays in Vegas. I just wanted to tell you that once more before you plane lands," Danny replied. I wondered how he knew that my conscience was eating away at me.

"I know. Tell Ed thanks again for me," I replied.

"I'll see you 'round," Danny replied as he hung up the telephone. I sat with the phone to my ear for a few seconds before I hung it up. I kept telling myself 'it stays in Vegas.' Woody was looking at me funny. I must have looked like I saw a ghost.

"Who was that?" Woody asked. I wanted to ask him if he wished that it was Sam, but I held my tongue and surprisingly held my anger rather gracefully for a change.

"Danny wanted to make sure that our flight was going okay," I replied.

"Always the prince," Woody commented. I didn't think he had the right to make fun of the only man that had treated me with respect all weekend; Danny didn't make a point of checking out all the boobs at the pool. I had even offered up myself as a distraction from the noise and lights of the casino, but Woody passed on me. I guess there were other more beautiful things to be looked at.

"Well aren't you going to defend him?" Woody hissed.

"I didn't know that I needed to," I replied. I didn't even want to start this fight. There was absolutely no where for me to run to, "Let's not even start this."

"Start what? Is there some sort of problem, Jordan?" Woody replied. He knew about the tape; I could feel my stomach sink to my knees. I knew there was no way that I could explain myself out of this one. I had been the picture of moral authority these last few months, but I managed to screw it up. I always managed to screw the good things up.

"Please stop it," I replied weakly.

"I can't believe you let him bet you. How stupid are you? What if some other man had won you? Did you even think of that when you went up to that suite?" Woody screamed at me. His tone of voice was definitely above a yell. It qualified as a scream. I was momentarily thankful that he didn't know about the tape, but that didn't change what I had done.

"I didn't know when I got there," I replied.

"I saw the way that you were looking at him," Woody yelled. That was the wrong move.

"The same way you ogled Sam . . . the same way I ate supper alone every night because you were too busy with Sam and the casino," I yelled back. That ended the argument. I wasn't sure what else that might have ended.

Two Hours Later:

"Welcome home," Garrett said as I walked into his office and collapsed on the couch.

"I'm glad to be here. I hate Vegas more and more each time I go there," I replied.

"Should I ask?" Garrett asked cautiously. I knew he had already figured out what I was upset about.

"Could you call up the residency program in Dallas? I think I want to take them up on that continuing education course they offer," I replied.

"The four week one or the six month one?" Garrett asked. He looked shocked, but he was the one that worked so hard to make sure that I didn't get hurt by Woody. He was right . . . Woody had proven weak when it came to other women . . . why should it be any different this time; Garret was always right. God, was I ever the hypocrite. I was punishing Woody for the same mistake I had made, but I reasoned that it was easier to be mad at him than myself.

"The six month commitment. I want to leave as soon as they will have me," I replied.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"It would be a good thing for me right now," I replied. I hoped that I was making the right decision.