Chapter Ten

You Have to Start Somewhere

Wounds take time to heal. There's the slow progress back to health…the scab falls off and the wound is now whole.

However, the scar remains.

For Woody and Matt, it took six months. Six whole months for the perverted bastard they had pursued to stand trial and be pronounced guilty. When Walcott had dropped by the precinct to tell them that the jury had rendered a guilty verdict, Woody and Matt looked at each other with grim smiles.

Lady Justice might grind her wheels slowly, but at least they turn. And sometimes in the right direction.

More discussions…over what could have been done better and faster…were made over beers that night at O'Hara's. Matt had cajoled Woody into meeting him there after their shift was over. To hoist a Guinness over their victory and chew up the details of the case.

A detective's own form of debriefing.

Woody tried to dodge it…all he wanted to do was go home to Jordan. He had called her immediately after he had found out the verdict. Now all he wanted to do was celebrate in her arms. But he felt he owed it to Matt to toast themselves once or twice before packing it in and going home.

After an hour of sitting hunched over the counter at the bar, Woody tossed some bills down on the counter, stood, and stretched. "It's finished, Matt. Thank God it's over and thank God we only catch a case like this once in a blue moon."

Matt nodded, still nursing his second Guinness. "Heading home to the 'little woman'?" He chuckled at his own joke. He thought of Jordan Cavanaugh as many things. The little woman wasn't one of them.

"Yeah. She actually cooked tonight. So I better get home to eat it before it burns."

"You sound positively domesticated or whipped one, Hoyt."

"Nope." Woody shrugged into his coat and buttoned up against the cold of a Boston's winter night. "I've just realized what's important to me…and who's important to me. And that it all can change in a heartbeat. Especially in my line of work. And Jordan's and my relationship is at the top of the list."

Matt looked over his partner with a jaded eye. But the skepticism passed quickly. Hoyt had changed, but lately so had Cavanaugh. He had seen both of them leave a crime scene or the office after a hard day – defeated, worn down, nearly obsessed with finding out the "whodunit and why."

Then seen both of them come back in the next day renewed and invigorated. Ready to face the odds once more and find the bad guy.

Matt could only contribute that to one thing: They recharged each other. That somewhere in that relationship, for all the hot sex Hoyt hinted at and passionate looks he had seen the two give each other, they found a solace and a peace with each other that Matt was lacking in his life.

And he knew it was his own damn fault. He could have had it, too. Only he had been too chicken to tell Lily exactly how he felt and she slipped right through his fingers into Bug's hands.

"That's good, Woody," Matt finally replied. "And I'm glad for you. Really glad for you. Go home to her. Celebrate. Have a damn good reason for being a half hour late tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, man," Woody replied, shaking his partner's hand. "And you….you…."

"Never mind me. Go home to her. Now."

Woody turned and walked to the door, turning to give his partner one more last good-bye wave before he stepped out into the Boston evening, the bell over the door jangling behind him.

Matt downed the rest of his Guinness in a gulp. That Hoyt is one lucky bastard, he thought. One lucky bastard… But Woody had worked for it…and it hadn't been an easy path to a solid relationship with Cavanaugh. That much he was sure of. Still, Hoyt had to start somewhere.

And Matt guessed he did, too. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched five on speed dial.

"Simmons."

"Lu…this is Matt. I was wondering if you had dinner plans…."

Maybe it was time for his wounds to heal.