Woody's POV:

She's in his arms; Nigel is gently comforting her. Her head is against his chest; I can hear her crying. She looks oddly vulnerable. I want to yell at her; she has no right to grieve as I am grieving. Jordan didn't like Devan; there was no question about that. I don't understand exactly why she is grieving. I don't know why I'm not grieving. I stand watching them; they don't notice me.

Nigel's POV:

"I'm sure what you said was only out of exhaustion, love," I whispered as I pulled her closer to me. Her tears are wetting my shirt. She's clinging to me; she's trembling in my arms. Jordan told me what Devan's mother said about all of us. I know why she's shaken; I know what it's like to want to take back words.

"Nigel, I'm a bad person," Jordan whispered.

"You aren't a bad person . . . none of us were good to Devan. Jordan, let's get you home," I replied. I felt empty; I wanted so badly to bring Devan home. It was the least I could do to make amends; if those even mattered anymore.

"Jordan, how are you?" Garrett said as he came into the crypt where Jordan and I were trying to hide from reality.

"Do you mind if I stay in Boston for a little while?" Jordan asked as she started to pull away from me. Jordan had called Dallas; there was nothing like a mass casualty and guilt to keep you in Boston.

"You can stay with me . . . Abby doesn't come over anymore anyways," Garrett replied. I think he expected Jordan to stay for a few days; I wouldn't have let Jordan fly even if she wanted to. I saw what that crash did; there was no way in hell that she was going to get on a plane tonight.

"So what's next?" Garrett asked.

"I don't think I can sleep," I replied.

"I need to go to the Pogue . . . some paperwork and stuff," Jordan said. She was still in my arms; she was far too exhausted to work.

"Love, I'll come help you out. I could use a beer," I replied. I kissed the back of her head. I could see Woody's form faintly in the reflection of the metal plated crypts. I didn't know if I should tell Jordan; those wounds were still too fresh. Last time Woody was hurting . . . well, he took advantage of Jordan. That wouldn't happen tonight; not as long as Garrett and I were taking care of her.

"Sure. I think maybe today will the first day that the Pogue won't open in the afternoon. We should do something for Devan . . . even if it's only sharing cliché stories," Jordan replied. I knew her conscience was killing her; I knew that the guilt was driving her mad. I hadn't realized that Devan thought of Jordan as a friend; I always thought Devan just enjoyed torturing Jordan. I wondered if we ever really knew Devan; maybe Devan was just clueless to the fact that Jordan had feelings for Woody. Jordan didn't talk about her feelings, so it was very possibly that Devan was just oblivious to the strange mating dance Jordan and Woody practiced endlessly. Part of me really wanted to believe that, but I just couldn't give in to the idea. I saw the pleasure Devan got out of driving Jordan mad. I saw the pleasure Devan got out of manipulating me to her work. The guilt would ease as we all began to forget those things. The guilt would be gone when we remembered Devan as a perky, passionate woman . . . a good doctor.

"I'll let Bug and Lily know. Nigel, you should drive Jordan," Garrett said as he placed a hand on my arm. He headed out the door farthest away from Woody; I knew his intentions were not to ask Woody. I felt bad for the young detective, but it was hard to forget that Jordan was leaving because of him.

"Let's go, love. It's been a long twenty-four hours," I whispered. She nodded. We left the crypt without looking back at Woody; I helped Jordan into her jacket. We took the freight elevator down to the parking lot.

Woody's POV:

They are like a family. I saw the way Nigel kissed Jordan; I saw the way that Dr. Macy reached out to Nigel and Jordan. I saw Bug comforting Lily. It's a family that I don't think I am welcome to be a part of.

I went back to the station. Eddie told me that I was lucky that I found that kid; it was strange . . . I didn't feel all that lucky. Eddie said something about going over to the Pogue; Jordan had called to let him know that she wouldn't be going to Dallas for a few days. Jordan was staying with Dr. Macy until she could get Max's house unpacked. Eddie said something about not wanting Jordan on a plane for a while; I didn't know when he became her keeper . . . they had been at each other's throats for years. He said that Detective Seely was going to go over there later. I said that I needed to go home.

I find myself standing across the street from the Pogue. There is a sign on the door "Closed – Death in the Family." They never thought of Devan as family before; hypocrites. I wonder what that makes me; I spent most of my time loathing Devan . . . I loved only her eyes.

I'm tired; my head hurts something awful. I have no idea where to go; I knew from the look Garrett gave me that I needed to stay the hell away from Jordan. I didn't blame him; I had hurt her badly. I had hurt her badly more times than I could possibly count on my hands. Devan . . . Sam . . . I wondered why I clung to things that I didn't really want. Jordan was right there; she was always right in front of me, but I was too stupid to realize that.

Selfishly, I was glad that Jordan wasn't leaving for Dallas. Selfishly, I missed Devan. I felt like I betrayed her; I wanted to tell Devan that I was sorry for coveting her eyes. I wished my last words to her were something more than "Jordan and I . . . Devan, I love Jordan." It shouldn't have really mattered because Devan didn't love me, but it should have been something special. I should have said something special to Jordan last night; I might never have the chance with Devan, but I did have a chance with Jordan. I just needed to think of something beautiful to say to her. I needed to say something that would minimize my careless affair in Vegas and all the other wrongs I have committed. I needed more than words; I needed sincere actions . . . fidelity and honesty.

"Detective Hoyt, why are you out here?" Sydney asked as he walked up behind me. He was getting ready to join 'the family' in their grief.

"I wasn't invited," I replied.

"Oh. The Vegas thing?" Sydney asked. I was annoyed with him already; the family was changing. It was evolving . . . I was no longer welcome to be part of its evolution.

"You heard about that?" I asked. If he knew, I was willing to bet that most of Boston knew.

"Sam called Jordan to tell her all about it. Speaker phone," Sydney replied. Well, it couldn't possibly be worse. Screwing up was about the only thing I ever really excelled at, "I know you and Devan were a thing . . . I'm really sorry."

It was nice of him. I watched him walk away. He broke into a slight jog in order to cross the street a little faster. He was a part of the family; I was not. I wanted to be part of something right now; I wanted to feel something right now. I didn't have anyone to run to; everything that I wanted I lost because own my own actions.

"Devan, I'm so sorry," I whispered as I watched Sydney walk into the Pogue.