Cal's POV:

"Welcome home, love," a tall English man says as he draws Jordan into his arms and kisses the top of her head.

"Nigel, it's good to be back," Jordan said with an easy smile. I was a little surprised that her first choice destination in Boston was the morgue. She told me that she wanted to check in with the family before we got settled in her apartment.

"You must be Calvin. Welcome to Boston," Nigel said as he extended a hand to me. I couldn't remember if I had met him before. It's funny how drugs can make you forget such things.

"Thanks. It's nice to be here," I said politely. I was nervous about Boston, but Jordan refused to leave me alone in Miami. She told me that I was coming to Boston with her. Jordan was going to help me rebuild my life . . . of course, it would be under her watchful eye.

I didn't resent her parenting. It didn't feel like parenting at all. She talked to me like I was an adult. She didn't use my past addictions as leverage in arguments. Jordan was good to me; I tried to do her right. I worked at staying clean. I fought off every urge by thinking about how much I would disappoint her. She, after all, was the first person in a long time to really care about me and what I had gone through. Kindred spirits you might say.

"How about lunch? I can put this stuff away for a bit," Nigel said with a smile.

"I could just about kill for a pub burger and fries," Jordan said with a smile. I knew that she was tired from driving that damn el camino all the way from Miami. The seats were uncomfortable and the shocks . . . well . . . it wasn't a smooth ride to Boston. Once I had a real job, the first thing I was going to do with my money was to give her the down payment for a real, safe, functional car. I wanted to repay her somehow.

"Calvin?" Nigel asked.

"Sounds good. Can we take your car?" I asked.

"The el camino?" Nigel asked with a laugh.

"It's not that bad. Anyways, Nigel has a motorcycle. I don't want to try to fit all of us on that," Jordan said with a soft giggle.

"Can we walk?" I asked.

"Gladly," Nigel replied.

Woody's POV

I had been released from my cage to go to work. Framus and Santana dragged me away from cold case files. They actually forcibly wheeled me away from cold case files and over to the pub across the street. They ordered food for me and pretended to enjoy my company. I fought them the entire way.

I hadn't expected to see Nigel, Jordan, and Cal walk through the door. I didn't expect Framus to wave them over to our table. Framus obviously didn't hear about how good I was at pushing people I loved away from me.

Jordan looked well; Cal looked like a person that I didn't recognize. They were both tan and healthy looking. They both looked happy. I didn't want them to be happy as long as I was miserable. I wanted them to suffer for what I perceived as them abandoning me to go on vacation for six weeks, while I struggled through six weeks of grueling therapy alone. I neglected to remember that I was alone because I turned everyone away. It was so much easier to blame them than blame myself.

"Woody, it's good to see you," Cal said politely. I noticed immediately that for some reason his hand rested on the small of Jordan's back. I pretended not to be interested. I went back to scowling at my food and my company.

"Just dandy to see you too," I said without bothering to stifle any of my anger. Maybe there was also a hint of jealousy in my voice.

"It's good to see that you're up and about," Jordan replied awkwardly.

"This chair provides me with oh-so-much freedom," I replied bitterly.

"She's trying, Woody. If you wouldn't have told her to get out of your hospital room, you wouldn't be so damn miserable," Cal replied. Jordan blushed. Framus and Santana looked down at their plates.

"Did you ever think I made the right decision? I wouldn't want anyone that would run off with a coke-head," I replied without thinking. I could tell by the look on Cal's face and the tears in Jordan's eyes that I had managed to sever the last raw nerve. I wasn't about to let them back into my life, but I wasn't about to let Cal run off with Jordan. She was the only girl in Boston that he couldn't have and I wouldn't let myself have.

"I'm clean. I've been clean for six weeks because Jordan made me . . .," Cal began.

"Cal, no. It's okay. I'm really sorry we disturbed your lunch," Jordan said as she let Nigel lead them across the pub to a booth out of our eye-shot and ear-shot.

I wondered why Cal was clean and how Jordan managed to make herself instrumental in that. Then, I began to wonder if they weren't just lying to me.

"Glad to see that you are so good at making friends," Framus said sarcastically.

"I told you that she wouldn't sit around and wait for you to stop acting like an asshole," Santana admonished.

"Me? Look at them," I replied with a distinct edge to my voice.

"No, Woody. Look at you. Look at the way she looks at you. You were stupid to ever let her go," Framus replied. I hated it when she was right.

"She left me to go be with him," I replied.

"No, she left you because you told her to get out of your hospital room. Jesus, Woody, what the hell are you so afraid of?" Santana replied.

"Is whatever you are afraid of worse than knowing that someone else could take over your spot in her life?" Framus asked. I had this distinct feeling that I was going to be ganged up on from this day forward. Neither woman was a 'soft' woman. They were both strong and opinionated . . . so much like Jordan.

"Did you really think Jordan would wait for you after what you said? This is Jordan. Not some love-sick little girl," Santana clarified.

I did think that she would wait. In the corner of my mind, I thought she would wait. In the corner of my mind, I never really believed that she had abandoned me. I just managed to tuck away my sensible side. I wanted to let the numb, to-hell-with-the-world side of my personality shield me from feeling all my emotions as intensely as I normally did.

"I did this, didn't I?" I asked no one in particular.

"Woody, I mean this as a friend and colleague . . . you really fucked up this time," Framus replied. So much for a rhetorical question being a rhetorical question.

"So does this mean that you are going to pack away the bastard routine for a little while?" Santana asked, "If you really love her, you are going to have to work your ass off. No more 'get out' and no more 'coke-head' comments."

"Woods, you're going to need one hell of a huge bulldozer to dig yourself out of this one," Framus commented as she stole a French fry from my plate.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Just glad you had this epiphany before I strangled you myself," Santana said with a smile.