Cal glowered for a few seconds before he turned and left. Jordan called out to him but it was too late he was gone. Not trusting her own tongue, Jordan quietly followed. She waited until she was out of the building before she let her tears flow. Under the street light where she parked her car, Jordan looked back up at the window that led to Woody's place.

She pursed her lips and thought to herself that was one of those moments when you think things couldn't possibly get worse...but they do. She tried to remember the word for it, and then it hit her...

"Yeah, it's called life."

Jordan found Cal a half a block away. She rolled down the window...

"Get in...It's a long walk back to Wisconsin. The least I could do is take you back to my place so you can get your stuff..."

Jordan diverted Cal with a pot of coffee when he tried to leave her apartment with is belonging shoved in her bag. She convinced him it was late. His bladder wouldn't take an 18 hour bus ride. She through him a blanket and told him to bunk down again for the night. In the morning when the emotions weren't running so high they could figure out what to do.

The last thing she could remember when she closed her eyes was the look in Woody's eyes. Over the years she has become attuned to the subtle shades of blue. His eyes were a hue of gunmetal gray. The last time she saw them like that was the day before his surgery. That time he was a man that had all but given up on life. The thought made her cold, her sleep light, and her dreams fatal.

Woody waited by the window until he saw the red lights of Jordan's El Camino faded out of sight. He didn't know what hurt worse; the thoughts of his brother being involved in their father's death or the fact that Jordan was now stuck in the middle. Still, he could help but be upset that she'd take it upon herself to intervene.

She had no idea what she was getting involved in. She claimed to know him. How could she?

He didn't even know himself.

He kicked around his apartment doing anything to prevent himself from outing at the security tape one more time. While hitting ping pong balls against the wall, he realized what was supposed to be an instrument of closure had become an all out obsession. He needed to break the cycle somehow someway. His answer came when his neighbor began to pound on the wall claiming her was going to call the police.

"I am the police asshole," he muttered to himself putting the paddle down. His fingers itched to push the Enter button. Instead he walked away. Before he could change his mind, Woody grabbed his jacket and left his apartment.

A little drive, at least that's what he told him self. Some fresh air and change of scenery, a new perspective and then maybe he could concentrate on the case he was working earlier.

Trying to push the picture of his brother's whiney face out of his mind, Woody drove around. Even though the temperatures were below freezing, Woody rolled down the windows and turned up the music. He let his mind wander, grasping for some kind of peace. Around midnight he found himself driving down Pearl Street.

He swore at himself when he slowed. Even from the street he could tell that her lights were off. He couldn't help but wonder if Calvin was still there. It didn't surprise him that Cal would weasel his way into a free night's rent. After all, Cal's spent most of his adult life crashed on somebody's couch. Woody only hoped he took his advice and was on his way out of town.

...but still.

Like a message from God there was a parking space open right in front of Jordan's building. Woody pulled in a turned off the engine. Sitting in the bitter cold he swore at himself again. He shoved his cold hands in his pockets and went inside.

It was too late for a social call...but this wasn't social. He needed to set the record straight. He needed her to just back off. He needed her...

"Shit."

Instead of taking the elevator he took the stairs. The hallway was eerily quiet making his steps echo like the building was telling him he was not welcome. It didn't stop him. Woody took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

Jordan set up with a jerk, but she wasn't as fast as Cal. He was already off the sofa and halfway across her living floor before her head left the pillow.

"Are you expecting anybody?" he asked in a stage whisper.

Jordan shook her head and grabbed her robe.

Cal took it upon himself to look out the peephole and let out a mutter curse when he saw Woody's face. Cal wasn't in the mood for round three.

"Who is it?" Jordan asked from a few feet behind.

"It's him. I'll get rid of him."

Cal opened the door a crack, "it's a little late Woody."

Before Cal could shut the door Woody's hand shot out and blocked him. "Damn, it's early Calvin," Woody said in a deceptively jovial voice. "The bars aren't even hopping yet in Wisconsin. I thought you would have been on your way there by now."

"Wood..." Cal sighed.

Woody pushed his way in to the apartment and looked for the blankets on the couch before he dared look at Jordan. When he did he looked past her.

"It looks mighty cozy in here. I thought you drew the line at more then one night Jordan."

"Damn it Woody!" Cal exclaimed. "Leave her alone! You're fight's with me remember!"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the man a prize!"

"Have you been drinking?" Jordan asked with cold concern.

"No, I wish I had. No I was just in the neighborhood and thought you'd stop by and make sure Cal had slunk under the rock he crawled out from. Looks like he couldn't take a hint. I guess drugs, alcohol and just being a damn idiot will do that to ya."

"...Wood," Cal warned again.

"Go home," Jordan said quietly. "You can't come in here throw around insults like you belong..."

Woody would have preferred Cal taking a swing at him. Jordan's words held more of a string. Enough, in fact, to make him stop and look at the floor with a guilt that reminded him that Jordan was an innocent in all of this. Woody was about to mumble some kind of apology when Cal cut in.

"No. No, let him stay. I want to hear what he has to say...because I have a few things I want to get clear myself."

Jordan through her hands up in defeat. "Fine, just don't kill each other. I had to get my floors redone after Malden..." With that, she marched back in her bedroom and all but slammed the glass–paneled door.

Cal couldn't help himself. "Malden?"

Woody waved his hand. He tone was almost calm. It was like Jordan being pissed off at both of them had sparked an unspoken truce "It's a long ass story that still doesn't have any logical answers."

"Should I be intimidated?"

"I am." Woody replied wisely.

He didn't see Jordan's little smirk as she pulled a tshirt over her head in the privacy of her bathroom.

"Wood, we need to talk..."

Woody shoved his hands in his pockets. The last thing he wanted to do was listen to another round of Calvin's apologies and justifications but he owed Jordan that much.

"I'm listening."

"I didn't know it was going to go down like that I would have never..."

"Don't lie to me Calvin."

"Eric. You remember Eric Chapman."

"How could I forget," Woody snorted thinking of a kid that made his life as a chubby preteen a living hell. "What about him?"

"It was a dare. He had these friends. Cousins he called them..."

"You and your friend's cousins. At least come up with some new material."

"I'm serious Woody. Eric wanted to hang out. I said sure. They were older and...cool. It was getting late. I knew I should've been home. Pop would be hotter than hell if I didn't have the laundry folded when he got there. But how the hell was I going to say I had to go home to do some lame chore. They said they were bored. Eric said he could get some weed and we could go over to the back 40 of his girlfriend's farm. We could get high and Hank would let me fire the gun he had under the bench seat of his truck..."

Woody listened realizing that his brother not only knew the guy that killed his father, but saw the gun that would be used to kill him. He held his tongue.

"Eric split and we drove to the gas station. Hank said something about picking up some beer. Hell, I wasn't going to say no. They asked me to stand by the door...to keep an eye open for Eric. I didn't realize that they were going to rob the place. Honest. I saw Pop roll up and I knew I was busted. I wasn't in any hurry to meet him...so I just stood there. I didn't know what was going on inside. I was too worried about pop tanning my hide."

"Pop knew..." Woody added.

"Yeah, I think he did. Maybe it was that cop sixth sense or something. He told me to run home. Hell, it was a mile down the road. I thought he was just being a dickhead. I wasn't moving too fast. I was pissed that he was going to make me look like a little kid in front of the guys. The next thing I know there was a bunch of yelling and then two shots. I thought I was going to piss my pants. I ran like hell..."

"And you never came forward."

"Fuck Woody, I was just a kid! Don't tell me you wouldn't have been scared too. Don't tell me you wouldn't have kept your mouth shut too. Because I know better."

Because I know better. The words echoed in Woody's head. He couldn't deny it. How many times had Woody kept his mouth shout when he should have been strong enough to say something? Unable to look his brother in the eye, Woody shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. It would be easy to tell Cal not to put this on him.

He couldn't. Life with their dear old man was anything but Norman-Rockwell-esque ...especially for Cal. Woody learned quickly to but the good one and to keep his mouth shut. Cal never did. They blamed his bruises on being a tough little boy.

Suddenly it was all so very clear. Woody was as much to blame for his brother being there that night ...if not totally to blame.