Thanks to all who have R&Red!

This is the next-to-last chapter. Enjoy!

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She awoke in the morning with a stretch of her cramped legs, and as she opened her eyes, she was aware of Woody hobbling in from the bathroom wearing a ratty white bathrobe.

"Woody?" she asked in surprise. "Did you just take a shower? You should have let me help you." She jumped from the sofa and crossed to his bed.

"I think I can manage a shower by myself, Jordan."

He stood there with a pair of jeans in one hand and his cane in the other, trying to figure how best to put his pants on.

"Here, let me help you." She pulled at the collar of his robe.

"Jordan! Come on! I'm kind of naked under here!"

"For Pete's Sake, Woody, I'm a doctor."

"You're a dead people's doctor, Jordan."

"Oh, puh-leez." She closed her eyes with a sigh and tossed him a pair of boxer shorts. "Here."

She opened her eyes after a moment, and he stood in his shorts, robe dropped to the floor. He watched as her eyes fell to his scarred middle. She swallowed hard. She had seen all manner of scars and wounds at work without batting an eye, but this was different. This was Woody.

"Well..." he started. "So, much for my six-pack abs." She looked up, and he gave her a rueful smile. She smiled back warmly. It was a glimpse of the old Woody Hoyt, and she was grateful for it. But then his face clouded over again.

He bent down to pull on his jeans as he tried to balance on one foot. "Here, let me help you. Lean on me, Woody."

"I can do it, Jordan."

"It's okay, I've got you." She slipped her arm around him.

"Jordan, don't. This isn't working."

"No, it'll be fine, just..."

"Jordan!"

He lost his balance and toppled back onto the bed.

"Oh, God, Woody! I'm sorry! Are you all right?" He grimaced in pain and clutched a hand to his middle. She leaned down to help him up, but he brushed her hand away.

"I can do it." He attempted to push himself up on his elbows.

"Woody, come on. You've got no abdominal strength. Just take my hand."

He shook his head. "I can do it."

"Just take my hand, dammit!" She offered her hand again. He grudgingly took it, and leaned against her as he dressed.

Afterwards, he sat back down on the bed, spent from the effort of dressing himself, and she stood for a moment in the awkward silence.

Finally, she went back to sit on the sofa and retrieved the brush from her cosmetics bag. She pulled the elastic from her long, chestnut hair and brushed it with long strokes.

She became aware of his eyes on her, then, and they turned to each other for a moment. There was look that passed between them and the air crackled with the tension of longing and regret. She had always enjoyed his appreciative glances and had done her best to earn them. But now she felt shamed and exposed in her tiny tank top. She quickly grabbed a sweater from her overnight bag and pulled it on.

"So...how about a movie or something?" she said in a rush. "I can run down to the corner for a DVD."

"A DVD? Great. So, I guess I'm stuck here, aren't I?" He shook his head in bitter resignation.

"At least until you get stronger. Those stairs weren't easy."

He looked up at her then. "No, Jordan. They weren't."

"Well. Then I guess I'll just head out to Blockbuster. In the mood for anything in particular?" She slipped her jacket on over her yoga pants and headed for the door. "Listen, why don't I get some chips, too?"

"It's eight o'clock in the morning, Jordan. I don't want a DVD. I don't want chips."

"That's fine. I can pick up some newspapers. Or you can watch me kick your butt in Scrabble." He rose and crossed to the kitchen without responding. "Woody, where are you going?"

"I'm just getting a glass of water."

"Here, I'll do it. You sit down." She followed him in, and he held up a hand to stop her. His hands were trembling, she noticed then. He poured himself a glass of water and swallowed two Vicodin. His hand still shook as he placed the water glass on the island and closed his eyes.

"Breakfast! How about breakfast?" She broke the uneasy mood. "Whaddya say? I scramble a mean egg."

He grabbed a box of cereal off the countertop and poured himself a bowl. "No, thanks. I'm just going to have cereal." He shuffled to the refrigerator and pulled out the gallon of milk. After unscrewing the lid, he lifted the jug hesitantly up to his nose and quickly pulled it back.

"Sour?" she asked.

"Well, that's what happens when you get shot, and you're in the hospital for a week." He slowly poured the contents down the kitchen drain.

"I'll just go and get some fresh milk, then."

"Jordan, stop. All right? Just...stop." He turned and struggled to put the box in the cupboards.

"Let me. You can't reach that." She tried to pull the box from his grip.

"Jordan, I can do it." He didn't let go.

"Come on, Woody, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Give me the box, Jordan."

"Woody, come on..." They stood in an absurd struggle over a box of Lucky Charms until it slipped from her hand, sending the contents to scatter across the kitchen floor.

They stared silently at the floor for a moment before he moved past her to retrieve the broom from the closet.

"I'll do it, Woody."

"Jordan, please. Please please please. Stop. Please," he said in pained exasperation.

She put a hand on his arm. "Just let me help you, Woody."

He turned suddenly to her then. His face was red with anger. The words erupted out of him. "I don't want your help, Jordan. Do you hear me?"

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "Woody, please..."

"Go! Just go!"

"I want to help."

"Why? Why? So you can make yourself feel better? So you can take pity on poor Woody?"

She bit her lip and fought back tears. "It's not like that, Woody."

"Then what? What are you doing here?"

She took a step toward him and reached her hand up to his face. "I...want to help you, Woody. I...care about you..." The words seemed stuck in her throat.

He took a step back from her and pushed her hands away. "You care? Just go, Jordan."

"Woody, don't do this."

"Go! I don't want you here. Don't you get it?"

They stood in a tense, silent standoff. She searched his face for some sign of warmth and hope, but she could find none. Finally, she nodded and retrieved her bag.

"Cal will be here on the 4:30 flight," she said as calmly as she could manage. She could not look him in the eye. "You should be all right until then."

He did not respond. She hurried past him to the door.

"Jordan..." he started, his voice softened. But she was already gone and the door shut behind her with a final click.

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It was good to return to work, and she found she could lose herself in files and reports. Woody was never too far from her mind, though. He was in good hands, at least, with his brother. She thought to call him, but she knew Lily was right. He was raw, physically and emotionally. Now wasn't the time. Perhaps it never would be.

A part of her remained raw, too, and she missed him with an aching intensity even as the week wore on. She was just about to leave work for the day when her office phone rang.

Friday afternoon at 4:30. Never fails. She slumped back into her chair with a weary sigh and answered the phone.

"Jordan, it's Cal," he said with hushed urgency.

She immediately sat upright and leaned forward at her desk. "Cal! Is something wrong? Is Woody all right?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He's in the shower; I don't have much time. Look, I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for Woody."

"That's what friends are for," she said, hoping that Cal would miss the heaviness in her voice.

"Yeah...about that." He continued carefully. "I can kind of guess what went down between you and my brother. He's said a couple of things. Nothing specific, but...I can kind of put two and two together."

Her face flushed red with embarrassment. "Cal, it's not..."

"Hey. Like I said. None of my business. Just...be patient. Okay?"

"He's just so...angry with me."

"It's not you, Jordan. He's angry because he was minding his own business and someone shot him in the gut. He's angry because he can't do the things he wants to do. But he can't admit it to himself, so he's taking it all out on you. I know all you guys must think he's some kind of happy-go-lucky Eagle Scout type. And let's face it. He is. But he's a lot more than that." There was a silence while she turned Cal's words over in her mind. "Look, I've got to go. Hang in there, Jordan, okay?"

The silent tears that were streaming down her cheeks made it impossible to respond. She set the phone gently down and hurried from her office before anyone could notice her there.