Sorry this is kinda short, but I'm out of town this weekend for a wedding and without a computer, and I wanted to leave you with something.

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the living room, casting a warm yellow glow on the living room. The bed that Jordan had slept in sat unmade. She hadn't really felt like fussing with tidiness when she woke up. Instead, she crawled out of bed and carefully took in the details of the apartment in the daylight. The endeavor hadn't proved to be very successful, but at least she felt more familiar with her life. As she stood next to the window where she and Woody had fought, she kept reminding herself that things with him would take time. As frustrated as she was, he was feeling just as helpless and mad at the world. Oddly, she didn't feel any embarrassment about what she had done last night. Somehow she knew that leaving him to carry out his tantrum was the right thing to do.

Now, she sat at the counter of her kitchen, quietly sipping coffee and looking through the newspaper. There was a small article about the new Chief ME of the morgue, Dr. Slocum, and his progress in a string of drowned victims that had appeared in the last few weeks. It left her wondering who her old boss had been, and why they had replaced him with this square. Hearing the soft click of Woody's walking cane, she looked up from her reading to see him emerging from behind the glass wall of her bedroom. His hair was a mess, but other than that he looked five times more rested than he did the day before. Woody met her eyes briefly, then glanced away as he gave a somewhat sheepish smile.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," Jordan replied, much more brightly. "There's coffee, and I've got stuff out to make an omelet."

"You don't have to do this, Jordan," Woody sighed, heading towards the kitchen.

"Do what?"

"Pretend to be cheerful. Act like I wasn't a total ass last night."

"Woody, you were far from it," Jordan told him. He gave her a skeptical look before reaching into the cupboard for a mug. "I'm serious. I could have behaved better…we were both upset. No one said this was going to be easy. We're just going to have to get used to this whole thing."

Woody poured himself a cup of coffee, listening to what was possibly the most rational thing he had ever heard Jordan say. At least about them. He took a sip of the hot liquid and nodded slightly. Without waiting for a further response from him, Jordan slid off her stool and walked towards the stove where she had eggs, tomatoes, peppers, parsley, and shredded cheese waiting to be cooked. Woody looked at her. He realized he had never really had her cooking before. And if he knew Jordan, he wasn't entirely sure this meal was such a good idea.

"Coffee's fine, Jo," he said innocently. "I'm not really that hungry anyway."

Jordan looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a smirk appearing on her lips. "You don't trust my cooking, do you?"

"That's not it, I'm really just not hungry," Woody insisted.

"You have got to get some nourishment back into that body, and if you argue with me anymore about it, I'm going to hide you canes," Jordan deadpanned. Woody raised an eyebrow at her. She returned the look. "You think I'm joking?"

Woody let out a small laugh and shook his head. Jordan smiled at him, but inside she was glowing with happiness. That was the first real smile she had seen on his face since the first time she saw him. It thrilled her to think that she was making progress in helping him recover.

"I got a call from Lily earlier," she said as she cracked an eggshell against the side of the frying pan, spilling its contents into the griddle over the vegetables. "I guess they have a pretty high profile case at the morgue right now." She paused, thinking of how to propose her next question. "She seemed to think it might be a good idea if I went in there this afternoon. Sort of reacquaint myself with the job."

"Sounds logical," Woody agreed. Jordan waited for him to say more. When he didn't, she went on.

"The thing is, I'd be a lot more comfortable if you were there with me," she told him.

Woody looked at her, surprised. Was she asking him to stay with her?

"I don't know, Jordan, the morgue is sort of your territory," he started. "Maybe it would be better if you went without me."

"Come on, Woody, it won't be that bad," Jordan said.

She then proceeded to give him the same damn beautiful smile that won him over no matter what she was trying to get him to do. She forgets everything else, but that she can remember to do.

"Fine," Woody consented begrudgingly.

"Good, after your physical therapy this afternoon, we'll head over there." Woody rolled his eyes at her, reminding her of a child who was told to do his homework. She licked her lips and glanced over at the counter. "Well, here's something that will make you feel better. I know exactly what that is."

She indicated a large Guinness bottle sitting by itself. Woody took the bottle in his hands and turned it over, inspecting it.

"What?" he asked, curious.

"That," she said matter of factly, "is the very first bottle of Guinness that was opened between me and my dad when the Pogue opened."

"You know what the Pogue is?" he asked, incredulous.

"No," she laughed. "That's the ironic part. I only know that that is what the bottle is from."

Woody smiled and looked back to the bottle. "The Pogue was a bar your father owned until a little while ago. We all had some good times there after work."

Jordan looked at him thoughtfully. It didn't really bother her that her memory was limited. She was just proud to have caught onto something that was meaningful. Woody's eyes clouded over a bit as he lost himself in memories of the past. God, I wish you could remember the Pogue Jordan. And how happy we always seemed to be there, he thought. Maybe I can do something about that…