Chapter Six

Woody continued to work with Dr. Stiles through the rest of the week. He knew he only had three really good weeks to get back on the road to recovery…the road to health…the way back to his life becoming normal without the numbing effects of Oxycotin.

And it hurt…digging up all the past issues. Jordan, bless her, would leave the apartment when Dr. Stiles came over. Going to Dr. Stiles' office was out of the question. His department and chief still believed he was on vacation in Kewanne, fishing with his brother. Woody was grateful she allowed him and Dr. Stiles total privacy as they began to address the detective's personal demons.

Dealing with his past was harder than he expected. It was so much more than Devin he was trying to numb himself from remembering. More even than Jordan and her seemingly continuous rejection of him. It wasn't until his second visit with Dr. Stiles, that he was asked about the Prozac. He hesitated on telling the doctor exactly why that had been prescribed.

"How long have you been taking it?" Dr. Stiles had asked.

"Since before I came to Boston."

"How long before then?" Howard knew that Woody had been in Boston nearly four years.

"About three years…."

"So you've been on Prozac nearly seven years?" The amazement in Dr. Stiles' voice ringed every word.

Woody nodded.

"Why?"

Woody pulled up short there. "It's a long story…that happened a long time ago…and I really don't want to talk about it."

Sensing that Woody was closing up on him, Dr. Stiles tried to readdress the issue. "Don't want to or can't, son?"

Woody looked at his shoes…. "Both," he managed to get out in a broken whisper.

Dr. Stiles just sat and looked at him. Woody gazed back at the man for a minute, then got up from his chair across from the doctor and walked over to the window. The robins were returning…Spring was here. Everything was new and fresh …. Innocence seemingly bathed the earth one more time. He wished he was innocent again…he wished he felt clean. Maybe, if he unloaded some of the burden he was bearing, he would at least feel lighter…that he wouldn't have to carry the whole load himself. The only other person in the whole world who remotely knew what he felt like was Cal….and even he didn't know fully. Woody had kept everyone as sheltered as he could from the past – his past. Maybe, in the long run, that hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe he should have opened up years ago…if he had, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Finally, bit by bit….issue by issue, it all came out…

"That's it?" Dr. Stiles finally asked.

"Yeah." Woody sat back down, his shoulders were slumped with weariness…but his heart was feeling lighter. At least one person in Boston knew….even if it wasn't the person he really wanted to know.

Stiles let out a low whistle. If anything, he now understood the young detective much better. He knew why the effects of the Oxycotin were so appealing. He knew why Woody had to stay on the Prozac. If he didn't he probably would have gone into emotional meltdown. Leaning forward, he asked Woody, "Do you want to stay clean?"

Woody looked at the doctor as if he had said something incredibly stupid. "Of course I do."

"Even get off the Prozac?"

Woody shook his head. "I don't know if I ever could…"

"I think you can. I think you will….I just think you need to do slay those demons of the past that keep tormenting you."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

Dr. Stiles sat back in his chair. "That is a question I can't answer for you…you know better how to answer that than anyone else. I just recommend that you don't do it alone."

"You'll help me?" Woody suddenly felt he depended on the psychiatrist more than he wanted to admit.

"I'll be here anytime you need me. I just suggest that you take someone along that really cares about you."

Woody raised an eyebrow.

"Jordan. She needs to understand. She's hip-deep in this, too. And she hasn't asked any questions….just been here to take care of you, feed you, comfort you….it would be nice if she knew why you were putting her through all of this. She's been pretty open with you about her past….or as open as Jordan Cavanaugh gets. I think you owe her that return favor."

Woody lowered his eyes. "I don't know…if anything, it's as bad as her own history, if not worse. Maybe I shouldn't unload this on her. It might be too much."

Dr. Stiles regarded Woody for a moment. Then leaning forward in his chair again, he said, "If there are two things I've learned about Jordan in the past several years, it's first that she's a lot tougher than she looks. She may seem little….petite…even delicate at times, but the girl is built out of steel. And second, she has a more than little experience about slaying demons herself. She's killed off a few of her own lately and I have a feeling she'd be happy to help you with yours."

Woody nodded.

He was a cop. He knew how to interrogate. He had earned a reputation with the Boston PD for being one of the best interrogators they had….his seemingly simplistic, naïve nature threw suspects off. They felt they could trust Woody, and as a result, would often tell him much more than they would other policemen, and far more than they intended to tell anyone. Then, just when the suspects would think they had Woody firmly in their corner, he would go for their throat….throwing them off guard. He was a shark in the interrogation room.

And while his law enforcement training had helped, it was a lesson he learned early on in life that really helped him in his career: Meet the problem head on. Even if the lady in the interrogation room seemed too nice to have killed her husband in his sleep, the odds were that she did, and you had better accept that fact and work with it. Jordan had often fussed at him for being too closed minded, but the facts were the facts and you best deal with them rather than beat around the proverbial bush.

That was what Woody knew he was going to have to do now. He had to meet his demons face-to-face….head on. Confront them and get rid of them. He had two problems. First, the big, ugly monsters that taunted him weren't so much in Boston. They were in Kewuanne, Wisconsin. And second, despite what Dr. Stiles had said about taking Jordan with him, he felt that he needed to deal with his issues first. Then he would tell her what made him succumb to the temptation of the Oxycotin. Dr. Stiles had been right about one thing. She needed to know. Even if they could never pick up the pieces of their past and put them back together…even if their relationship could never be resurrected or resuscitated, she deserved to know why he really wasn't the man she thought he was.