FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

A/N: As ever, thank you for the lovely reviews. I'm glad this feels realistic to those of you who've commented on Jordan's actions and behavior. As for what the other element of the mobile was – well, like the show, I'm leaving that up to the imagination, though I'm leaning toward garden gnomes. (grin).The final part should be posted tomorrow.

Part Seven: Subtext

Boston

By the time Jordan came back down, Woody was gone. She'd more or less expected that – she'd spent enough years running every time life threw her a curve to know when someone was ready to sprint out the door – but she was still disappointed. Disappointed not because she'd envisioned some cathartic resolution to the whole problem, but because something he'd said had struck a chord in her.

I miss you, too, Woody had been on the tip of her tongue, but she'd closed her mouth around it and kept the words behind the locked gates of her lips. He might have read something into it that she didn't mean. The truth was, though, that she did miss him. Not the constant balancing act she'd gotten into – denying her feelings to protect his and failing at both, keeping him at bay as a lover and trying to hold him close as a friend. She missed the simple, quiet moments. Over the years she'd realized how seldom those had come around and she'd known that maybe if there'd been more of them – if she'd have let there be more of them – that maybe it would have worked. Shortly after telling Danny she loved him, she'd sat in her office and puzzled out why it worked with him and not Woody. She knew a lot of her friends would have said it was the distance, and, once upon a time, she might have agreed, but by the time she knew she loved Danny, she also knew she needed him and was incomplete without him. She'd finally decided the answer was incredibly simple – that liking they shared. With Woody, she'd gone through every emotion she could think of – an ABC book of them perhaps. They'd started at attraction and gone from there, hitting highlights with condescension, jealousy and worry. But beneath it all – always – had been the questions and the doubts and, in the end, the pain and anger. She couldn't shake the question though – had they ever liked each other?

She picked up the brief note he'd scrawled. A call came in, it told her. She decided to believe it. It was easier than the answer she feared. It was easier than No or even I'm not sure.

She sighed and sunk down on the lowest step. The house creaked around her. Danny had never seemed further from her than at that moment.

XXXXX

Boston – six months later

Jordan tapped her pen against her desk. She took a deep breath and closed the report she was checking. She'd already read over it four times. She just didn't want to go home. Catherine was an overnight Brownie camp; Sarah was sleeping over at a friend's house and Lily had begged to take Dan-Dan (it was the best Jordan could do for a nickname) for the night. Home would be empty without them.

Jordan was proud of herself. She'd been back at work five months and was juggling three kids fairly well. The house was a safe, comfortable haven filled with children's shrieking laughter and the first babbling sounds of a baby learning to talk. A lab puppy now chased the kids around the house and yard. The baby had taken his first tottering steps and ate solid food. There were no shadows in the house, no ghosts. Any unhappy memories would only be of the typical childhood traumas: skinned knees, pinched fingers and flat bicycle tires. Jordan had begun to lose the sound of Danny's voice. Her skin couldn't quite recall the way he touched her. His scent was a thing of the past. She watched videos to hear his laughter, to watch him smile, but they were only videos. He had been dead just over a year. And Jordan had started to let him go.

She pushed back her chair and did something she hadn't done since she'd returned. She headed for the roof.

She sat on the low wall and gazed at the street below before letting her eyes drift out over the city. Darkness had come on softly, stealing over her, surprising her. She heard the door open. It was probably Garret. He would have seen her car, gotten worried and come looking for her. The wind toyed with her dark hair, until she nudged a strand of it away from her eyes. She looked up.

"I thought you might be up here." Woody smiled uncertainly at her. They'd worked together a few times and it had all been very civil. He'd asked after the kids; she'd congratulated him on that promotion. He'd even sent his regrets at not attending the surprise party the staff, in collusion with her devious daughters, had thrown for her fortieth birthday.

"And here I am," Jordan replied, standing up, her hands sliding into the pockets of her jeans.

"You asked me something, Jordan." His head dipped for a moment. "That night."

"Yeah. A while ago, Woody."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I – I didn't understand it for a long time."

Her mouth quirked into a faintly disbelieving grimace. "And now you do?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He gestured to the wall. "Mind if I join you?" She shook her head. They sat a few feet apart, both mute for a few minutes, the sounds of traffic dim and far away up here. At last he took a deep breath. "You and – and him – you liked each other, didn't you?"

She nodded. "We enjoyed being together."

"You and I didn't?"

"I don't mean that, Woody. You and I – God – it was always so complicated. I know, I know-" she forestalled his protest with an upraised hand. "-it went both ways, you know. There were always so many undercurrents, so much subtext. I just – Everything was… simple with Danny. We knew what we wanted from each other and – and what we could give each other was always enough for the other one."

"What does that mean, Jo?"

She sighed. "I can't seem to explain it to anyone, other than to keep saying we liked each other. He liked me, Woody, for who I was, where I was. He never – He never wanted me to change and he didn't change for me."

"I didn't want you to change!"

She took his hand. "But you did. You wanted me to change for the better – I finally saw that, but, even though you said my 'issues' made me who I was, you wanted me – maybe needed me to get past them. And this huge part of me wanted to! But this little part was so afraid of changing, of growing and of it still not being enough."

He looked at her and clutched at her hand. "And then – that's what happened."

"Yeah." She wiped at the tears standing in her eyes with her free hand. "I did – did love you." She gave him a weak smile. "Too little, too late."

Woody took a shuddering breath. "Not too little, Jo. Don't ever think that." He pulled away from her and stood up. "I was the one who too late." He studied her, his heart pulled into a million pieces at the silent tears running down her face. He'd seen Jordan cry too many times. Danny McCoy had seen her smile, heard her laugh, watched her play with their children, and Woody couldn't figure out who he hated more for that – a dead man or the man who had died emotionally the day he'd heard Jordan had moved to Las Vegas. He turned from her. "How long has it been?"

Since…? Oh. Of course. She sniffed. "Almost thirteen months."

"Do you miss him?"

She stifled the whimper that rose in her throat. "Every day. I always will."

He was silent for a long time. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened… if?"

"If Riggs hadn't happened? If I'd told you how I felt on my birthday that one year? If I hadn't answered my cell phone that time in L.A.? If…?" She had regained some of her typical Jordan bravado. "Yeah. I used to wonder. For a while."

"And now you don't?"

She shrugged. "It's more that now – now it doesn't matter. It didn't happen. We both moved on."

He finally turned back to face her. "Jordan Cavanaugh letting go of the past?"

She smiled. "Stranger things have happened."

"Not many," he teased, but his tone was sad and his eyes mournful. "I should get going. You should, too. Kids are probably waiting, right?"

"Actually, I'm on my own tonight." She watched him from beneath her lashes. "You never answered my question."

He took a step toward her. Taking her hands, he tugged her to her feet. "You're right. It was never simple between us." He lifted a hand to brush away that rebellious lock of hair from her cheek. He sucked in a hollow breath when his fingers came into contact with the dampness still lingering on her skin. "We probably went through every emotion there is – and maybe a few no one's named yet." She laughed softly. "But, yeah, Jo. Yeah, I always liked you." He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry you didn't know that."

END Part Seven