A/N: Long, long overdue I know…but I have mysteriously found some inspiration for this fic, and it came from a night of coffee-induced writing. Yep yep. On a little side note, some of the characters in this may confuse those who have yet to refresh their memories so I'll give y'all a little glossary:

Lesley Morgan – Woman who was found dead in the prologue, after Woody accidentally ran her down.

Nick Morgan – Lesley's brother…twice removed. Hehe.

Ray Marks – Husband of my homeroom teacher…j/k. The man who was with Lesley when she allegedly stabbed herself.

James Kendall – Man who raped Lesley eleven years ago…and was found dead in the basement of Lesley's old house.

Adrienne Jean – Lesley's old shrink.

Hope that clears some things up.

I'd like to thank FKW for the review…I know how hard it is to say moderately good things about a story involving your least favourite couple. So cheers, and have some beer :)

Only For The Truth
Chapter Three: Never Knowing

Everything was quiet. Not a sound penetrated the early morning peace and as Devan woke slowly, she felt the strange need to scratch her nose. Opening her eyes reluctantly, she felt the onslaught of nauseating pain in her head. A result from drinking, she knew, but she could not remember the details of the night before. Lifting her head, she sighed at the striking pain. Then she looked down at the bed sheets. They weren't hers and she panicked suddenly. Her memory was fuzzy and she dreaded looking to her side to find out who it was beside her. She looked down at the strong arm that embraced her middle and she noted the fact that they were both clothed, which was a good sign.

She frowned when she realised where his second arm was positioned. She felt his elbow in the small of her back, while his hand reached down a little lower. Turning her head carefully to the side, she caught a glimpse of his dark brown hair, messy around his head. Her heart skipped a beat. She had a feeling it would be him, although she didn't know how. The last thing she remembered was drinking alone in a bar…then it came to her. He had shown up and taken her back to his place, which she assumed was where they were now. Then everything else was a blur. A blur of motion that didn't make quite sense.

Shaking her head, she shifted forward and sat up slowly, taking in a deep breath. Her ankle hurt and she frowned because it felt heavy. They were both covered in a light sheet and she shivered on impulse. Sliding one leg out from the blanket, she turned to move the other one when a hand grabbed onto her own from behind her. She turned around and snatched it away quickly, frowning at his satisfied smirk.

"How's your head?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Why do you care?" she retorted tiredly, sliding out of the bed skilfully.

Woody shrugged contently. "I don't know. It might have something to do with the fact that you were extremely vulnerable last night."

Devan laughed bitterly. "And I thank you so very much for not taking advantage. Thoughtful."

Woody's smirk widened. "How do you know I didn't? You can't remember much."

She countered his smirk as she walked around his bed towards his bathroom. "Oh trust me, I know you didn't. I would remember that."

Woody laughed and didn't object when she walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower. She needed one, anyway. He lay still in his bed for a few minutes before sliding out of his side and walking towards the kitchen, where he made some coffee and poured two mugs. He then looked around in his fridge and smiled when he found what he wanted. He prepared 'breakfast' and walked back over to the bathroom, where he could hear the pelting of water.

"Last night," he said loudly through the door, "you said you were alone. Do you still think that?"

He heard the slightly muffled answer. "If that's the case, consider me in good company."

Woody laughed and he heard the shower stop. "Does this inspiration come from waking up and finding me next to you?"

"No."

"Oh," he said quietly, almost disappointed. "Because you know…"

"Woody," Devan cut him off, "don't want to know."

Woody sighed and walked back into the kitchen, where he waited for another ten minutes before Devan finally emerged from the bathroom. He smiled at her coyly while she frowned at his smug look. She walked up to him and shook her head, and he pointed to a glass sitting on the bench.

She stared at it and swallowed. "What is that?"

Woody glanced proudly at the glass. "Prairie Oyster."

Devan frowned. "What?"

Woody folded his arms and shrugged. "Egg yolk, a dash of pepper, tomato juice…vinegar. Stuff like that, you know."

She nodded and studied the glass, repulsed by the contents. "Please tell me that is for you. Like, some sort of energy drink or something."

"No," Woody said slowly while shaking his own head. "It's great for hangovers."

"Ok," Devan began professionally, "where I'm from, we just drink coffee. Then throw it up…repetitively."

Woody raised an eyebrow and a finger. "Is that what you were doing in there?"

Devan smirked when he pointed to the bathroom. "No, actually. I was trying to erase your permanent handprint from my ass, but it didn't work."

Woody laughed as he leaned in. "Nice image."

Devan smiled falsely and moved away. "Yeah."

Jordan picked up her coffee mug and looked at it cautiously before downing what remained of the black coffee, then almost spat it out as it had become cold. She sat at her desk warily with a hand wound through her hair, her eyes trailing over Lesley Morgan's autopsy report. Even though the case was days old already and she was letting Devan do most of the legwork, she still felt a certain calling, like she had to do something. The only major exterior wound on the body was the stab wound that cut deep into the woman's stomach lining. Apart from that there were minor bruises around her upper arms and faint handprints around her throat from where Ray Marks had strangled her.

Sexual penetration had taken place, and there was minor bruising, but nothing that suggested rape. It had been consensual, and proved Ray Marks' story. Unfortunately for them. Dismissing him from the case meant that Lesley's death had to be labelled a suicide caused by traumatic experiences and the stress that related to them. Marks was off the hook and there was no one to pay the price for Lesley's death.

There was a sharp knock on the door of Jordan's office, and she snapped back to reality. "Yeah?"

Woody walked in, wearing an expectant look. "I need a copy of Lesley Morgan's autopsy results."

Jordan sighed and held out the file. "You can take this one. I'm done with it."

After taking the manila folder, Woody flipped it open impulsively. "Anything we missed?"

"Not a thing," Jordan said quietly as she leant back into her chair. "Complete dead end in the way of suspects. Lesley Morgan's a victim of herself."

Woody stared at her. "She was a victim of rape. If anything, James Kendall is the man responsible for her death, just like he was responsible for her rape eleven years ago. Too bad he's dead now."

Jordan pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, thanks to Lesley. You know, this case is a real contradiction. Everyone who's a victim is an accused."

There was a small silence between them, before Jordan took a deep breath. "Woody…" she began, uncertain.

He perked up, his eyebrows lifting. "Yeah…?"

Jordan licked her lips. "Are you and Devan…you know…together?"

Woody let out a nervous laugh. "Are you kidding me? We're not even close."

Nodding, Jordan held his gaze. "You two were together the night Lesley died. I just wondered if it was anything…"

"Jordan," Woody interrupted. "There's nothing going on between me and her. I was just driving her home that night, that's all."

Woody was surprised at how easily he had lied through his teeth to Jordan. He immediately felt a pang of guilt and tried to smile it away, but it was still there even as he thanked her for the autopsy report and retreated from the room.

The conference room was unnaturally quiet as Lily arranged the photos and personal effects of Lesley Morgan on the table. She was dreading the moment when Nick Morgan would walk in and see the photos, break down in tears, and demand to know what had happened. She had been through it all so many times before that every angry or overwhelmed relative became routine for her. How to deal with it all came with time but it was also natural for Lily.

There was a small knock and she stiffened suddenly, aware of the figure behind the frosted door. She walked over and opened the door slowly, gradually revealing a man of muscled build who wore a professional look.

"I'm Nick Morgan," he said quietly, repressing the emotion. "Lesley's brother."

Lily smiled and nodded. "Of course. Come in."

Nick Morgan took up a seat and swallowed at the photos of his dead sister. "She was a good person."

Lily sat carefully down on an opposite chair and placed her clasped hands on the table. "I'm sure she was, Mr. Morgan."

"Call me Nick," he said in a small voice.

"Nick," Lily began in a quiet tone, "the manor in which Lesley died is confronting for anybody, but because you were so close to her I'd imagine it's much more disturbing for you."

"The man who killed her," Nick Morgan said as he ignored Lily's soft tone, "is he being charged?"

Lily swallowed. "Um…I think that's a question to ask the police, Mr. Morgan."

Morgan shook his head. "I've already asked the police. They wouldn't tell me anything."

Hesitating, Lily took a silent breath. "There have been no formal charges at this time. But they're still investigating."

Nick Morgan stared daggers at Lily. "Still investigating? What's taking them so long? That man who killed Lesley confessed. Isn't that enough for them?"

Lily frowned. "With all due respect, Mr. Morgan, I'm not authorised to talk about that. I'm a grief counsellor; I counsel people who are grieving."

"Then what am I doing here?" Nick Morgan whispered icily before plucking up Lesley's personal effects and stalking out of the room.

Lily breathed a sigh of relief when he had left the room. She had seen the aggressive approach many times before and still felt frightened by it. She only hoped that Nick Morgan's anger would not turn into revenge for his sister.

Devan stretched in the small space between the back of her chair and her desk. Staring at her fourth cup of coffee for that day, not including the one Woody had made for her that morning; she yawned and shook her head slightly. It was only three in the afternoon and already she felt like showering and sleeping. She wrote a few more notes down on the paper in front of her before cursing as the pen ran out of ink. She reached over for another one and something caught her eye immediately.

Woody smiled at her. "Working hard?"

She glared at him. "I see you're not."

He shrugged. "Lunch break."

"At three in the afternoon?" Devan asked disbelievingly.

Woody pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning against and walked slowly over to her, studying her look. "You're jealous."

She raised her eyebrows. "What, of you? Please…"

"Admit it," he said slyly as he folded his arms over his chest.

She stood, levelling his look. "Why would I be?"

Woody answered quickly, as if he had prepared it, "Because I have freedom within my job and you don't."

"I hate you," Devan said spitefully, ignoring his quipped comment. "I think you're arrogant and extremely stupid."

"Likewise," Woody countered coolly.

Devan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Likewise?"

He shrugged again. "It's true."

"You're loving this," Devan laughed coldly.

Woody looked smug. "Every second of it."

The air between them was cold, although their teasing taunts were anything but. Denial was a part of any relationship, and what they were feeling was exactly that. Devan was stumped. She had nowhere else to go, and she knew Woody had a whole chapter to recite if he wanted to. She swallowed and tried to think with a racing mind.

"I don't know why I put up with you," she managed to say quite calmly.

Woody smirked. "Because you're attracted to me."

"What?" Devan feigned a horrified look. "Attracted? As in pulled to you by some invisible, magnetic force we call lust? You're insane. Absolutely insane."

Woody's eyes sparkled. "We both know it's true. I see the way you look at me. Your eyes follow my every movement. Admit it, you want me."

Devan swallowed hard again. How had it taken this turn? "Oh really? Well then if I'm so attracted to you, why haven't I ever kissed you?"

Woody smiled and leaned forward. "You're afraid of the repercussions."

That in itself would have been enough to completely dumbfound Devan, but Woody took an extra step.

"You're afraid of what your feelings for me might turn into," he said as he shrugged. "It's okay, we've all been scared at some time in our lives."

Devan glared harder at him than she ever had. "You think I'm a coward?"

"Don't feel bad about it," Woody stepped back carefully. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She took a countering step towards him. "Why am I a coward?"

Woody took on a mock frown. "I've just been telling you but if you want me to repeat it all…"

"After everything we've been through, you think I'm a coward?" Devan was too overwhelmed to realise Woody was just trying to stir her up.

Woody nodded. "Coward in the sense that you don't like to make the first move."

Devan was surprised at that. She was only trying to respect him when she had resisted making a move any time they had been alone. Respect his latent feelings. But had she known he wanted her to make a move, she would have. If not for her own hesitations. She stared at him, his blue shirt and the way it seemed to plaster against his body. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing his lower arms. How strong they were. How secure that had been around her that morning. How they had felt against her…

She shivered and pulled herself back into reality. She realised Woody was staring at her with a somewhat 'so what are you going to do now?' look. She glanced into his eyes, then followed his nose down to his lips. They were slightly open and waiting for her to respond. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. It was soft, not demanding in any way, and a fresh shiver ran up the base of her spine.

Devan pulled back slowly, breaking the momentary kiss. She looked into his eyes to see his response but was distracted when a phone began to ring. The source of it came from Woody's pant pocket. He pulled it out, flipped it open and answered,

"This is Hoyt."

Devan closed her eyes and moved back.

"Okay, thanks." Woody hung up and looked at Devan, but didn't meet her eyes. "Another body."

Woody looked up from where he was squatting. The male body had been found in the back of an alleyway, behind an apartment block. Two shots in a straight line, one through the heart. Dead in an instant. He glanced back down and closed over the dead eyes of Ray Marks, a victim of a violent death. A man caught in the middle. A man accused, though not guilty.

Devan walked up to him, but kept her distance. "In the middle of a work day. Nice place to kill someone."

Woody looked at her briefly before glancing back down at the body. "I think we have a vigilante on our hands."

A/N: Dun dun dun…vigilantes are cool. I like 'em. Reviews are appreciated as usual!

Peace.