When Woody didn't show up for work the next morning his sergeant, who was very well aware of the rumors spinning around about the young detective and a certain gorgeous but troubled M.E., made a call over to the morgue to see if the pretty Dr. Cavanaugh had any clue where he might be.

"Woody didn't show up for work today?" Jordan asked sitting up in her chair concerned.

The sergeant's answer was a short laugh. "I practically gotta kick the kid outta here every night and then all of a sudden he doesn't show up today. I thought maybe since you two are so…close and all…you might be able to tell me where the hell he's at." He replied.

Jordan sighed. They were about as close these days as Japan and Australia. "No no, I mean, I haven't heard anything from him today…he isn't answering his home or cell?" she asked concern rising.

"No ma'am. I guess if you don't know where he is I ought to send a uni over to check on him then, thanks for your time." The sergeant stated and Jordan caught him before he could hang up.

"Wait..I mean, no sense in tying up an on duty officer, I can take my lunch early and run over to see if he's there." She said and the sergeant casually agreed, happy to have one less thing on his full morning plate.

On the drive to Woody's apartment Jordan grew more and more anxious. She wouldn't have consciously noticed it except for her foot putting more and more pressure on the gas pedal the closer she got to Woody's neighborhood.

Why wasn't he in work? What happened that would have made him just not come in without a call? Why wasn't he answering his phone if he was there? These and a dozen other questions had her racing for the other end of town where she hoped Woody would be.

"Woody?" Jordan called through the heavy door as she knocked hard several times. "Woody it's me are you home!" she bellowed louder and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a shadow moving slowly in the light under the door. She smiled hesitantly as he unlocked the door but it faded quickly when she was confronted with a squinty eyed, scruffy faced Woody. The usually passionate bright blue of his eyes even looked dull as Jordan stood looking up at him.

"What do you want." He said hoarsely.

Jordan startled at the harsh tone of voice. "I just…wanted to see if you were okay, your sergeant called me and said you didn't come in this morning………are you okay Woody?" she asked softly and reached out to touch his face but he pulled away.

"Swell..thanks for asking." He said starting to close the door but Jordan put a firm hand on it.

"Woody…what happened? Please let me in, I can try and help..just tell me what happened." She begged and he shook his head, the first emotions she'd seen on his face since the door opened a moment ago finally appearing in the form of watery eyes and a vein popping out of his scalp.

"He turned around." He choked out and shook his head.

"What? Who did Woody, I don't understand." Jordan asked gently and touched his face again. This time he didn't pull away but closed his eyes at the tender touch.

"Just go Jordan…I'm okay." He said and pushed the door shut with a click of the lock. Jordan opened her mouth to say something but she knew it would only be a waste of a breath.

Instead she raised one hand to the door and rested it against the wood gently, wishing she could reach out and help him up from whatever dark place he was most definitely in. But things hadn't been good between them for some time and Jordan knew she played no small part in that.

With one last stroke of the door she lay her head against it before she turned to leave, her footfalls becoming more and more distant in the ears of the man with his head and hand still resting on the other side of that door.

The rest of the day Woody spent lying on his couch, staring out the window. In his peripheral vision he could see the blur of old family pictures hanging on the wall.

One of he and Cal playing with cars in a large pile of dirt their father had bought to fill in the garden but never made it further than the side of their house where the boys had made it their own personal dump truck heaven and one of their dad in his usual nightly spot, stretched out on his recliner with a can of beer and a game or two on the tv.

One more picture over and Woody was face to face with a strikingly younger version of his father, army fatigues on and a bandana tied around a head of hair that rivaled Bruce Springsteen's in his heyday. His father was smiling, maybe even laughing in the picture, probably feeling on top of the world. A new recruit in the Army, an army that tried to make it's men feel like it was their privilege to die for their country in this war that took so many lives. A war that these men returned from broken, empty and many a stranger to their own families.

Woody knew his father never talked much about the war but it wasn't until after he died and his uncle told him about how his father had been when he first returned home.

'Well what snapped him out of it Uncle John? He was…pretty cool when we were little before Mama died..'

'Well see Woodrow, your pop moped around for a few years, feeling sorry for himself and finding no particularly good reason to care about much of anything at all until he met this BEAUTIFUL tall brunette that could melt the ice in the Arctic with one look…'

Woody finally cracked a smile at the next picture. His mother. Her long brown hair and smiling eyes all but a very distant, locked memory to him. His smile faltered and his eyes cast away from the photo momentarily. He didn't remember her. His own mother and all she was to him were pictures and stories he would occasionally get out of his father. He'd let her down in not being able to keep her memory alive. He let his father down in not being able to take care of Cal and letting him slip down a hole their father had tried so hard to keep Cal out of.

But then their father had let them down too.

"Why did you turn around Pop?" Woody asked the empty room in a whisper and glanced back at his computer screen.

"Woodrow, what can I do for you this fine night?" Nigel asked trying to be light as the brooding detective stalked towards his desk in the morgue.

Everyone had been walking around Woody on pins and needles for so long that they almost didn't know what to do without a healthy bit of tension in the room on a daily basis.

Luckily for them Woody's new devotion to detail in his work had him stopping by the morgue on cases sometimes two or three times a day.

Woody held out the jeweled case of the surveillance camera from the gas station to Nigel.

"I need you to see if you can digitize this surveillance video, see if there is anything anomalous about it, anything jumps out at you and I need you to do it ASAP." Woody said without a greeting.

Nigel raised an eyebrow and turned the case over twice looking at it. "Oooookay..what is it mate? Case you're working on?" he asked putting the DVD aside with a flippancy that made Woody's blood boil.

He clenched his fists at his side and tried to relax knowing Nigel had no idea what was on the tape. "Yeah, a very important case so be careful with that." Woody said pointing a finger at the disc again.

"Well if it's from a case couldn't they give you the original? That'd be a lot easier to work with than a copy.." Nigel said looking up at Woody a little frightened.

"No. They could only give me a copy right now…"Woody lied. "Just….just see what you can do okay? Then give me a call as soon as you're through." He said shortly and started for the elevators.

"Wait, Woody…are you alright chum? You look like you've seen a bloody banshee." Nigel said standing and putting a hand on Woody's shoulder. "Jordan said you weren't in work today, she's worried about you…we all are.."

"…I'm fine Nigel…just call me when you find something." Woody said shrugging off his hand and heading down the hall.