VIII

For the first time since she had arrived in Boston, Emma slept, for a full eight hours, drug free. She woke to the sun pouring in through the thin, dark blue curtains. Everything around her radiated a peaceful silence. The mingled scent of man-sweat, unfamiliar spicy cologne and a sweet breakfast filled her nostrils. She sighed contentedly as she stretched.

A small knock and the door opened a crack. "Emma?" Woody whispered. "I made breakfast, if you're hungry." She had a feeling that he was wondering if she was still there.

"I'll be right out," she replied groggily, hopping out of bed. The last meal she ate was the one that Sydney had brought her in the hospital. She dug in her bag for a pair of comfortable pants and a shirt. She did not find walking out in Woody's apartment wearing nothing but her silk-lacey number very appropriate.

She found him across the room, buttering toast. "Jam?" He asked.

"If you have strawberry, I'll have some of that."

He nodded, placing two fried eggs, bacon, toast and an exotic mixture of hash browns and flavour onto a plate and handed it to her, smiling. "I hope it's up to par."

"It smells wonderful," she said. Upon tasting his delicacy she asked, "Where did you learn to cook, this is great!"

"Well, after my dad died, I had to start taking care of my little bro. I sort a learned a few tricks of the trade," he grinned.

"Well, you seemed to have mastered that trade." Emma complimented, adding, "I burn toast, overcook eggs, bacon is but a thin, hard crisp and don't even get me started on my hash browns, which are usually flavourless and still frozen."

To hide his embarrassment; Woody turned around, and dished up his own plate. Emma sat at the stool, with her plate on the counter. Woody stood across from her.

"What's the plan for today?" He asked.

"My job interview is at 1:30," she replied.

He smiled, "I can get you there." There was a long pause as they ate their brunch. Woody sad, "You know, it's pretty admirable, you're going about your life as if nothing happened."

She grinned, "Well, when life hands you the short end of the stick, you've just got to deal right? I have to go to this job interview because if I don't, I won't have a secure enough future. This is a big important company that is willing to pay me far more than I can dream of making back home and I can't let anything stand in my way."

"Not even trophy guy?" He asked with a mouthful of bacon.

"I'm not even afraid him. Eventually, you'll catch him and I'll get on with my life. And I guess I'll just act as if nothing ever happened."

She sensed a bit of pride from Woody when she said those words. She knew that he wanted her to depend on him fully to get the job done and that he would keep his promise of defending her. Emma's good sense of character knew she could trust Woody through and through.

"Turn on the TV," he said.

She did as he requested and what she saw horrified her.

Stunned he said, "Do you think you'll be able to get away from that?"

Outside the Medical Examiner's office was a professional looking newscaster with Dr. Macy. She wore a grin that told viewers she knew the story and she was not going to stop until every person involved was interviewed.

"We are not authorized to release any names. I've said all that I can say, I'm sorry, go find your story elsewhere," Dr. Macy said finally.

Emma turned the TV off, turned to Woody and asked, "Are they going to come after me? If they do, he'll find me, won't he."

Woody sighed, finishing his breakfast. Emma had lost her appetite and in silence, he began clearing the counter.

"I'm going to get ready for my interview now," she said, her words lost in thought.

Woody only nodded.

While in the shower, Emma tried to think of ways to avoid the media. She began talking to herself, "They probably know I'm with Woody. They don't know where I'm staying. Maybe I could get a police order to hide my name." After blow-drying some volume into her hair and putting on a respectable amount of makeup, she was going to ask him about these things but the bedside phone began to ring, nearly scaring her half to death. She could hear Woody answer it in the living room as she calmed her nerves, thinking repeatedly that she was nervous about her upcoming interview. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself while dressing.

She emerged from the bedroom ready to go. Woody trailed off in mid conversation with whoever was on the phone as he looked at her. She smiled, wearing a small white jacket overtop a pink button up shirt that was neatly tucked into a flaring, white skirt with pink butterflies up the left side. Her bangs were pinned back with a sparking pink clip. Her smile tried to hide her flattering appearance, but only enhanced her beauty.

"I-I know Jordan!" Refocused he continued, "Can you trace the DNA, do the bullets have a matching gun?" There was a pause, as Jordan responded, "Well there's nothing I can do about it then is there? There are different detectives working on the case," another short pause, "I was given a different task, related to the case, yes." Emma felt he did not want to tell Jordan about her living situation. "Why do you care? Unlike you, Jordan, when I'm told what to do, I see it through!" Those being his final words, he hung up.

Emma, slightly taken aback, said, "Do you mind if I ask what that was all about?"

"No, she was just giving an update on what little progress they have. They are the best at what they do, probably in all of America, but I'm afraid that you were right, this guy is going to be harder to find than any other. All of the evidence we recovered has been no use. There's no gun, no matching DNA, not even on you. It's like he just falls off the face of the planet when he wants to."

Emma was afraid of that very problem.

AN: You might be asking "What is going on!" You'll find out soon enough, keep reading! R&R