Disclaimer: You know what I own. You know what I don't own.

A/N: Well, I was only going to post Chapter Seven tonight, but since it was so damned short (and because I wanted to advance the story), here's Chapter Eight! Oh, and we have made a time jump. This chapter takes place 3 months after the events of Chapter Seven, and some of the chapters after this may do a time jump of one week. Just letting you all know so you don't get confused. And thanks to Mrs. Rhett Butler for reviewing!

(Side note to Mrs. Rhett Butler: Wow. That was quick! {Laughs} Aww, sorry 'bout that. Must've sucked. Well, you'll get to see part of it in flashbacks, and part of it in real time {real story time, anyways}, but either way, you'll see how Peter helps Amanda. Yes, it could be dangerous. But I don't REALLY think Woody would shoot someone for dating his daughter. Do you?)

Chapter Eight: At The Pogue

"So," Amanda said from her room, "Where we going tonight that I have to dress semi-nicely?"

Amanda was in her room attempting to get dressed. When she had come in from work, her dad had told her that she needed to change into something other than her usual "jeans and a vintage tee-shirt" outfit. So she was currently rifling through her closet, trying to find something.

"Damn," Amanda thought. "Been living here 3 months already, and I still can't find anything in this freaking closet." Finally she pulled out the outfit she had been looking for, and began to get dressed.

"We're going to go meet someone," Woody-already dressed-answered from the living room. "It's a pretty big deal, so that's why you need to wear something that looks semi-nice."

"Aha!" thought Amanda. "I have a feeling I'm finally gonna meet my dad's girlfriend, Dr. Cavanaugh. He's right, then, about having to look decent." She finished dressing and walked out into the living room.

"So, how do I look?" she asked Woody, executing a runway model turn.

"Beautiful," he replied. "So, ready to go? I've got a taxi waiting downstairs, seeing as how my car's out of order."

Amanda blushed. "I tell you, it was an accident! I just got a little scared!"

"Getting a little scared is one thing," Woody said as they left the apartment and got into the elevator. "Getting so scared that you hit the gas instead of the brake and back my car up a hill-sticking it at almost a 90 degree angle-is quite another."

"OK, that is SO not fair! One, the tow truck was able to get it out of the grass without killing the landscaping. Two, it was more like a grassy knoll. And three, IT WAS TWO MONTHS AGO," Amanda said, laughing.

Her father had been referring to an incident that had happened two months ago. Woody had been teaching Amanda how to drive under Boston laws so she could get her Boston driver's license, and when he tried to re-teach going in reverse, Amanda had lost control of the car, panicked, and accidently hit the gas instead of the brakes. The people at the mechanic's shop had told Woody it would take a few weeks to fix it, but two months had passed, and it still wasn't fixed.

"Anyways," Woody said with a laugh as they got into the taxi, "it's ok. At least it happened BEFORE you got out on the road!"

"Well, at least I still got my license," Amanda said, pulling it out of her purse and waving it at her father.

"The question is, though, how long are you gonna have it for before it happens again?"

The conversation went on in the same vein for a while, and then the taxi stopped in front of a bar. The sign on the bar read: The Pogue.

"Dad, you do realize that I'm only a month short of my 19th birthday, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, this is a BAR!" said Amanda. "Sure, I could waitress here, but damn, it's a BAR! You do realize I'll die of thirst here, don't you?"

Woody and Amanda were standing at the door of the Pogue. Amanda was baffled at the fact that her father brought her to a bar. Woody was trying to explain to her-while laughing uproariously-that they served soda too. After a few minutes-mostly to give Woody time to stop laughing-they went inside.

Once inside, Amanda noticed that this was, indeed, not a normal bar. For one, there was a stage at the far end, and two, there were TVs that were NOT playing sports on them situated around the bar. She was still looking around when Woody nudged her and said, "Come on, I see her."

"Her," thought Amanda. "I was right!"

Woody led Amanda over to the main bar, where she saw Jordan, Bug, a few people that she didn't know, Lily-who she knew from going to the morgue for grief counseling-and...

Amanda caught her breath. Peter was there too, and he was looking right at her. "And oh geez, does he look good," Amanda thought. "Glad I look decent."

Then Amanda's thoughts were interrupted by her father. He was walking towards her with a tall brunette woman that Amanda knew by sight was Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh.

"Amanda," Woody said. "This is my girlfriend, Jordan. Jordan, this is my daughter, Amanda."

Jordan smiled and extended her hand to Amanda. Amanda took it and said, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Please, call me Jordan," she said. "Everyone else does."

"OK," Amanda said. She was beginning to like Jordan already.

"Well, I'm sure you're wondering who some of these people are that are with me," Jordan said, "So I'll introduce them." As Jordan went around the table, Amanda learned that the older man was Dr. Garrett Macy; the tall, British man was Dr. Nigel Townsend; and the blonde girl about her height was Dr. Devon Maguire. After the introductions had been made, and everyone was settled in, Amanda took a seat at the bar, a couple seats away from everyone else. The bartender asked her if she wanted something to drink, and she asked for a Shirley Temple. He returned a few moments later with her drink. Amanda nodded her thanks, and then sat there with her drink, watching her father and his friends.

Peter had looked up from his drink when Woody and Amanda came over, and was stunned. Amanda looked beautiful. She was wearing a long black skirt, a red shirt, stockings and black heels, and her hair was down around her shoulders and curly, the soft kind. He noticed she was looking back at him, and he noticed just as well how quickly she looked away when Jordan approached. After a while, he watched her go over to a seat that was a few down from the group, and sit with her drink. He got up and walked over to her.

"This seat taken?"

Amanda looked up from her drink and saw Peter standing next to her. "Go ahead," she said. "I'm not expecting anyone."

Peter sat down next to her with his drink. "You look depressed," he said.

Amanda laughed. "What makes you think that?" she asked.

"Well, you're sitting over here by yourself, you're playing with a coffee stirrer and a napkin, and you're head's hanging so low it'll be on the bar soon."

"Oh, yeah. That does kinda give off a depressed vibe, doesn't it?" Amanda replied.

"So what's wrong?"

Amanda sighed. "You want the abridged version or the full version?"

"That bad?"

"I just feel really lonely and left out. I'm the newbie here, and of course my friends wouldn't come here. They'd never be allowed in a bar unless they were working. So I'm pretty much alone here."

Peter stared at her for a second. Amanda laughed. "I mean, alone in the sense that everyone knows everyone already, and I only know a few people."

"I know how that feels," Peter said. "Not too long ago, I was in the same position. Low man on the totem, didn't know anybody, was a bit of a smartass."

"Hey, being a smartass is my job!" Amanda said.

Peter laughed. "Well then, I guess we're more alike then we thought."

"Guess so," Amanda said. She thought back to their last phone conversation, in which he had said something very similar.

"Well, you're not the only one," Amanda said.

"What do you mean?"

"I tend to go off into my own little universe sometimes, especially when I'm upset. I just go into my room, shut the door, and do whatever I feel like doing to keep me calm."

"Well then, Ms. Baxter," Peter said, trying-and failing-to sound like a psychologist, "I guess we're somewhat alike."

"Maybe so," Amanda said with a smile.

"So, Amanda, you need a refill on that-what the hell is that?"

Amanda laughed. "It's a Shirley Temple-the non-alcoholic kind. And yes, I would love another."

The bartender walked over to them, and Peter said "How about another Shirley Temple for the lady here, hold the whiskey, and a glass of water for me." He grinned at Amanda and said, "Gotta make sure they're not serving the underage people like yourself."

"Thanks for the rousing show of chivalry," Amanda said with a grin. "It was very refreshing."

"We aim to please," Peter said as the bartender came back with their drinks.

"Why the water?" Amanda asked. "I could've sworn that was a gin and tonic in that glass when you came over here."

"I don't drink very much, or at all," Peter replied. "Never have."

Amanda took a sip of her Shirley Temple, then looked at the glass. "I love these things. My mom got me hooked on them when I was little. Damn their addictive taste and bright red color!"

Peter laughed. She was so funny when she tried to be, and over the last three months, she had been trying harder to be funny. She was so much better than she had been 3 months ago, and in that split second, Peter made a decision that had been bugging him the entire time he was sitting there.

"Um, Amanda, I was wondering something," he said.

"What would that be?" she asked.

"God, this is tougher than I thought it would be," Peter thought. "Come on Winslow, pull yourself together. It's not that hard."

"Peter?" Amanda said. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Well, I was wondering, if maybe sometime, you'd want to go do something. Like dinner and a movie, maybe?"

Amanda almost choked on her Shirley Temple. She couldn't believe it. He was asking her out. He was actually asking her out. She recovered quickly, and gave her answer.

"Sure, I'd love to."

Now it was Peter's turn to nearly choke on his drink. He couldn't believe she had said yes. "Really?" he asked.

Amanda laughed and said, "Really. I mean, what harm could it possibly do?"

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" Woody screamed.

They had gotten home from the bar 10 minutes before, and Amanda decided it would be a good time to tell her dad where she was gonna be Friday night. Unfortunately, he didn't share her opinions.

"What do you mean what the hell was I thinking?" Amanda said. "He likes me, I like him, we've been talking back and forth on the phone for the last 3 months, so when he asked me, I thought it would be only natural that I said yes!"

"Picking up dates in a BAR!?!?" Woody said angrily. "God, even I don't do that anymore!"

"Well, you don't need to. You've already got a date."

"But he's 8 years older than you are!"

"Lexi and Lucy's uncle is 10 years older than his wife, and I have a friend whose mom is 8 years younger than her dad, so it's not all that uncommon."

Woody sighed. "I'm just worried about you, is all. I mean, what father wouldn't be?"

"And I understand that, but you could trust me a bit more. And for that matter, you could trust Peter too. It's not like he's been stalking me."

Woody had to laugh at that one. His daughter was right. "OK fine. You can go out with him. But the first time he brings you home drunk, his ass is history."

Amanda laughed and hugged her dad. "Thanks Dad. I knew you'd say yes."

Woody watched his daughter go down the hallway to her room and thought, "Strike that. The first time he DOESN'T bring her home, his ass is history," before going to his own room and turning off the lights.