Chapter Two

It was time to move on. He knew it. He felt it all the way down to his soul. It was time to figuratively kiss Jordan Marie Cavanaugh good-bye and go on with his life – despite his feelings for her; it was time to make his life without her.

Of course this was easier said than done. He saw her nearly everyday. At work. After work, at the Pogue. Seeing her made him remember…and remembering made him angry. Angry at her. At her issues. At a past she had no control over, but was still reaping the bitter harvest from.

But she did have control over her reactions to this past, and that's what angered Woody the most. He did move on with his life, dating a string of lovely women in Boston who had relatively no issues to deal with. Women who were as intelligent, steady, and strong as they were beautiful.

And were totally boring to him, when compared to a certain medical examiner. He had sighed and stopped seeing them, stifling his need for companionship, female company….raising the bar on his sexual frustrations.

And lowering his level of tolerance for Jordan. While he was dating other women, she hadn't been sitting home playing the emotionally-starved nun. She was seeing other men, too – but none that her father would have approved of. While not the dregs of society, they certainly were below caliber in the way they would treat Max's daughter. While they may have been impressed with her knowledge, maybe overwhelmed at her medical degree, and possibly even awed with the way she worked with the police, they really only wanted one thing from Jordan – time in her bed.

Woody couldn't help but notice, especially when she would parade these men in front of him at the Pogue, with a casual, "Hey, Wood….how's it going? This is -" and she'd fill in the blank. He'd shake the man's hand and move on to talk to Garret, Nigel, or even Max, finally discreetly removing himself from the bar, to go back to his lonely apartment, angrier than he was before.

The anger would bring on sleepless nights where he'd lay awake wondering….about Jordan and her choice of men. He didn't understand her. He was attracted to her…cared for her; even now….but didn't understand what she was doing. Maybe these men were the kind of men she wanted to have a relationship with…sort of shallow, commitment-phobes themselves, who were only interested in the physical side of a relationship.

And that hurt. Not that he hadn't wanted to make love with her…God knows he did…still did, if the truth was to be told, but he wanted to be so much more to her…the one that was there when she was sick, the one to hold her during the thunderstorms she was so frightened of, the one that took care of her. Protected her…against the bad guys and against herself. The one that was by her side when she gave birth. The one that she grew old with. That's what he wanted….he wanted it all.

But he obviously wasn't her type. She had shoved him away and went after an entirely different type of man. A type of man he didn't think he could be, no matter how hard he tried. And despite how much he made an effort, he couldn't get the vision of Jordan with these men out of his head. On those sleepless nights, the picture of Jordan with one of these men…her arms around him, the man caressing her and making her his, would taunt Woody's mind to the point where he would have to get up and ride by her apartment, just to see if he could tell if she was alone.

Woody wasn't the only one alarmed at the change in Jordan's behavior. Nigel and Garret had noticed, too. "It's happening again," Nigel said to the other two men, one night when they were at the Pogue.

"What?" Woody asked, hesitating before raising a beer to his lips.

"She's scared of something," Garret responded.

"Scared?" Woody asked.

Nigel solemnly nodded. "Yeah, mate. Whenever Jordan gets scared of something…a job, staying in one place too long, a person…she starts this downward spiral of self-destructive behavior…"

"And that's what she's doing now?" Woody again inquired.

"Yes. That's what she's doing now….with these men and drinking too much…that's what happening. She'll keep this up for a while, and then…" Nigel replied.

"Then what?" Woody asked softly.

Garret swallowed half his beer. "She'll figure that she's messed up enough that it justifies her next action."

"And what will that be?" Woody asked, not really wanting the answer, but needing it just the same.

"She'll run," Garret answered.

He had experienced her running once before. All the way to LA. He had followed her out there, shot a man for her, and then brought her back home. He had hoped then that his actions would have been enough to prove himself to her and she'd agree to be his. No such luck. She had danced out of his reach again.

Now he vowed to himself she wouldn't run again. Not until he had some answers. Not until he knew if everything between them was truly over. Not until he knew there was no chance in hell that she'd love him.

Short of arresting her and throwing her in the Boston jail on a trumped-up charge, he knew there was only one way to stop her - confront her. Tell her that he knew everything. But where….and when? That was the decision he would have to make. And it would have to be a damn near perfect decision. Anything short of it would guarantee her running away and God knows when or if he would see her again. He couldn't bear that thought. So he reviewed his options. His place? No. She'd probably never come back there. Her place? Probably not. He'd never be asked over again and even if he just showed up at her door, he doubted he'd get invited in. The Pogue? Maybe. If he could get her there alone.

In the end, the decision would be made for him…in her office, long after everyone else had left the morgue, hours after the doors had been locked.