A/N: Wow, I just realised how long I've left this…it seems like ages ago. I wrote this chapter a while ago but I didn't update it cause I sora forgot about it. Yes, I'm a bad mother.

Anyway, last chapter Devan and Woody shared a night together, just to recap for the people with short-term memories. Myself included.

I just want to shout out to FKW for reviewing. My lone reviewer. Love you heaps :) And thanks to the people that read this but don't review…I like to read my hits :)

Only For The Truth
Chapter 5: Nobody Can Win

Nigel noticed it immediately. The averted eyes, the avoiding looks, the space between them…something was definitely wrong. He only half-listened to what Sidney was talking about, though he knew he should pay more attention to the young doctor,but instead his eyes focused on the two subjects he would be following very closely for the next couple of days. She stood away from him, listening intently to Sidney as if her life depended on it. And he…well he was trying to listen to Sidney, though all the while his eyes flicked to hers in an unconscious hope she would turn her gaze to him. However, it did not happen once.

"…so that tape we found in the Morgans' house was blank," Sidney concluded as if what he had been saying was an amazingly intriguing story.

Devan nodded, pretending to be interested. "Thanks, Sidney. We scoured the place and found other tapes, though. Did you check them out?"

Sidney shrugged. "They're still with the precinct. They won't hand them over…"

Woody lifted his brows as Sidney's look directed itself at him in an insinuating way. "I'll talk to my captain, see what the hold up is."

Sidney nodded and walked off. There was a momentary awkward silence as Devan, Woody and Nigel were left standing alone in one of the corridors of the morgue. As the two subjects were avoiding each other's eyes, they both turned to Nigel, each with a seemingly pleading look. Nigel hid the smirk that was inevitably going to rise while he shrugged complacently.

Devan flicked her eyes suddenly over to Woody, then she looked away from his gaze. "Have you been briefed?"

"Yeah," Woody said while nodding, "this morning. I've given a statement but I didn't have much to say. I didn't get a good look at the guy."

Nigel gave a look of mock confusion when he realised Woody was talking to him, while what he had to say was directed at Devan. He watched as Devan gave a small nod and tried to walk past Woody, but failed miserably when he impulsively stepped in front of her, blocking her way. They tried to walk around each other but ended up effectively barring one another. It didn't matter though, as it was all very amusing to Nigel.

When Devan had vanished from view, Nigel leaned over to Woody. "What was that about?"

Woody frowned at the other man's sly tone. "Nothing."

"Okay," Nigel dismissed as he shrugged it off. "Did you notice anything specific about your attacker? It might help if we find a connection to that and the murder of Ray Marks…"

"We slept together," Woody said quickly, his lips tightly pursed together.

Nigel stared at him with blank eyes. "Well…that helps a lot."

"Last night," Woody continued, oblivious to Nigel's previous question. "I showed up at her place, completely dripping with blood and she cleaned it up and then it just happened. A spontaneous thing, completely unplanned."

Nigel nodded, slowly. He sensed something between them. Just not exactly…that. That was pushing everything, all the boundaries. It was almost impossible to fathom, even for him. There was a silence as Nigel continued his session of nodding. Woody just stared at the ground nervously.

"This is awkward," Woody breathed after a significant amount of minutes.

Nigel frowned. "So, have you…talked to her about it?"

Woody shook his head. "No. The only thing she said to me this morning was 'how do you like your eggs?'."

Nigel gave a sympathetic look. "Sorry. So, any candidates for the attack?"

"Hey, guys."

Woody turned his head at the familiar voice. He smiled falsely, hoping for it to be genuine. "Hey, Jordan. Nigel, it's Jordan."

Jordan frowned and slung a hand over Woody's shoulder. "Who made your coffee this morning?"

Woody gave a nervous chuckle and looked at Nigel with a blank look. "So, anyway, right now I've hit a block on who the attacker may have been. He wasn't exactly big or heavy built, though it was definitely a man. I heard his voice. It sounded kind of low but not gruff, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, like Nigel," Jordan quipped. "I heard about the attack, by the way. How are you feeling?"

Woody gave a half-shrug. "Fine. A little shaken up, but fine. The cut has cotton gauze over it and alcohol was applied to it so it's not bleeding anymore. It wasn't very deep and I don't think I'll need stitches."

"You're lucky," Jordan said while giving him a serious look. "You could have severed an artery."

Woody shifted uncomfortably and whispered spitefully, "Where have I heard that before?"

Jordan either ignored him or didn't hear him. "So what happened with Lenny Keller yesterday?"

Woody cleared his throat. "I believe what he said. I don't think he killed anyone. Too smart for that. He finally admitted to being hired by Nick Morgan but I didn't bother charging him with assault. Too minor."

Jordan smiled and nodded, walking past Woody. "Besides, you've got bigger fish to fry."

"Yeah," Woody replied while smiling. "I'm going to head back to the precinct. I'll see you guys later."

"Oh, do you know where I can find Devan?" Jordan called after him.

Without turning around, Woody answered, "If you look hard enough, you can always find Devan."

He closed the door behind him and looked over towards his desk. He sucked in a frustrated breath. He cursed her inwardly. She was always there. Always. It was like she was suffocating him. An overstatement, but this was definitely a form of harassment. He walked over to her, trying not to think about the intimate details of the night before. But they burned in his mind and he couldn't get rid of the ashes. No matter how desperately he tried.

She smiled at him pretentiously when she saw him striding towards her. "Just thought I'd check in."

He leaned over her. "Get off my desk."

She did so obligingly, sliding gently off the side of his cluttered desk. "Sorry, I forgot you take six sugars instead of five in your coffee. My mistake."

He sat down on his chair, ignoring her sarcastic toneand conveniently avoiding her eyes once again. "Devan, what are you doing here?"

Devan shrugged. "Lunch break."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "It's eleven in the morning."

"I know," she replied easily. She paused and shrugged again. "I secretly have the day off."

Woody looked up at her and frowned. "Then why did you…?"

She smiled down on him from where she was leaning against his desk. "To avoid you. Didn't exactly work out the way I wanted it to, but it was worth a try."

He couldn't help but smile back, despite the…developments that had taken place overnight. "And you're here now because…?"

She tucked a few strands of her blonde hair behind her ears before answering him. "I could lie and say that I was here for the rest of the tapes found in the Morgans' house…or I could say that I wanted to talk. Do you want to go get some coffee or something?"

He looked into her green eyes and smiled at the pleading look in them. He felt a shiver run up his spine. "Sure."

She tilted her head and smiled gratefully. "Great. I need the rest of those video tapes, by the way."

Woody gave her a dull look. "Do you want that coffee or not?"

She returned his look, pouting slightly. "You know I like to keep myself updated, Woody."

Woody stood, plucked up his jacket from the back of his chair and started walking. "You'll see them after I do."

Devan followed him willingly, putting on a false smile. "In a rut much, Woody?"

Turning to look over his shoulder, Woody flashed an equally false smile. "Only with you."

The sun shone brightly above them, a rare occurrence, particularly around this time of year. A few clouds obscured the streaming rays, but little did the two mind. Too much of one thing always ended badly, anyway. For instance, being out in the sun too long brought on painful burns and eventually equally painful peeling of the skin. Even with clouds though, there still was a high risk of being shamefully burned. The same thing applied to the truth; if the truth shone all of the time and even if it sometimes did have heavy clouds obstructing its view, people would still be suffocated by it. The truth figured this out a long time ago and found ways to hide in the depths of the dark shadows that followed almost the entire human population around. It trained itself until eventually it was basically impossible for someone to find the truth. However, that didn't stop people from trying.

"So, I've been thinking," Devan began in a professional tone.

"Did that hurt?" Woody muttered under his breath, though audible enough for the intuitive doctor beside him to hear.

The two were walking down towards Woody's awaiting car, each with large coffee cups in their hands. Woody was holding his jacket in his other hand, sweating mildly from the heat of the sun above them. His pressed light blue shirt fluttered in the warm breeze that blew past them occasionally. Devan kept her eyes pointedly before her, her mind trying desperately not to recount the previous night's events. It was still very much awkward between them, and something told Devan it wasn't about to become any easier.

"We agreed on an end to the sniping, remember," she reminded him rhetorically. "Anyway, do you think your attack last night had anything to do with the murder of Ray Marks?"

Woody shrugged, taking another sip of his already icy coffee. He swallowed it with a cringe. "Why would it?"

It was Devan's turn to shrug as they rounded a corner. She caught a glimpse of his arm out of the corner of her eye. "Maybe someone's playing games with us. Maybe someone doesn't want us to uncover the truth."

"Devan," Woody began, turning to her for a brief second before shifting away. "We deal with people everyday who want the truth to stay hidden. I want to find the guy who did this," he pointed to his chest with a free finger, "as much as the next person. Whether the attack on me had anything to do with the murder or not doesn't make a difference. It will all come out in the end."

Devan sighed, trying her best to ignore Woody and his righteousness. "I think whoever attacked you and murdered Ray Marks wants justice for Lesley Morgan. Whether it's Nick or not…"

"He has a water-tight alibi," Woody interrupted her accusation of Lesley's brother. "Three in the afternoon at the local supermarket. Caught on security camera."

This made Devan hesitate. "Interesting way to grieve. Retail therapy…with groceries."

Shrugging, Woody dumped the coffee cup in the bin to the side of the path. "To each his own. Why do you think the killer wants justice?"

"Maybe the person out there attacking the detective on the case and the guy who was blamed for Lesley's death knows her personally," she said with alert eyes. "Maybe he…or she went through a traumatic experience with her and now feels like he, or she, has to avenge her death."

Woody blinked, giving Devan a side-look. "You're overreaching."

"Am I?" she asked defensively, looking him in the eye. "What if I'm right…?"

Woody stopped at his car and turned around to face Devan. "There could be a million reasons why this is happening, you're just thinking about it too much."

"There isn't a million reasons, Woody," Devan retorted, raising her voice. "There's only one. And we have to find out what that is before someone else dies or gets hurt."

"We?" Woody began heatedly. "I have to find out what that is. There's no we, no us. No you. You cut up the dead people, that's your only job. The bodies you examine aren't supposed to be lives to you; they're supposed to be lives to me. I investigate, you cut."

Devan stared at him with angry eyes, her nerves rising within her. "I hate the way you shrink me all the time."

"Shrink you?" Woody said disbelievingly. "Honey, you wouldn't know the meaning of the word."

Devan stared incredulously. "Well, Sweetie, why don't you teach me? I'm sure you have enough time on your hands since you have all of that freedom within your job and all. Not to mention your extra-curricular activities being reasonably shortened from now on."

Woody breathed angrily. "Just so you know, what happened last night will never happen again, and the mere thought of it just sickens me."

Devan contained an amused smile. "Oh really? Well it certainly didn't last night."

"I didn't have a clear state of mind last night," Woody replied steadily. "I was in a state of shock."

"Oh, that's what it was then," Devan crooned gently in a falsely sympathetic tone.

Woody glared down at her. "At least I don't think some crazy, vigilante dude is out to get me."

Devan pretended to be taken aback and put a hand to her chest, opening her mouth slightly. "Well excuse me for being concerned not only for my safety but for yours."

There was a hollow whistle as something sliced through the air and pierced the window of Woody's car with a shattering echo of smashing glass. The window had been in between the two bickering subjects, who were sure to have been the targets of a sniper rifle. With a delayed reaction, Woody ducked, taking Devan down with him. The siren of the car alarm was deafening but Woody was able to open his eyes and scan the area for the shooter. No one. He glanced through the trees, behind poles, on top of buildings. Nothing. Just people running, some towards the crouched couple, some right away from them.

Devan, pushing Woody off her, stood shakily and brushed some stray glass spectacles from her. The car alarm stopped suddenly as she stared at Woody with a pointed look. "Still think no one's out to get us?"

A/N: …is there or isn't there? That is the question…