A/N: I'd like to appologize with how long it has taken me to get this chapter posted. I've been dealing with a lot in real life the past few months... going out of town to visit sick family, business trips, a stalker... all sorts of fun. But here is the next imstallment.

And, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One ring, two rings, then three and four. Finally I heard the line connect on the other side.

"S'is Hoyt," his sleep-laced voice mumbled.

"Why would you picture me as a mother?" I demanded as I began pacing across my newly polished wood floor

"Jordan?" he questioned sleepily, and I could picture him rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his mind still trying to wrap itself around my question. I heard the squeak of his bed as he sat up. "What time is it?"

"4:30. Now, dammit, answer the question!"

"Jeez Jordan! You call me at four-fucking-thirty in the morning demanding answers to questions I'm not even sure why you're asking!" His tone now had a dangerous edge to it and I realized I'd be better off to try the honey tactic rather than the vinegar.

"I'm sorry Woody," I said repentantly, "I'm a bit irritable… I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Boy, was that ever the understatement.

He sighed. "Calling me hours before sunrise- I'd never have guessed," his voice lost its edge and was now laced with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine," I reassured him. "I just need some time to adjust. Get over this whole ordeal"

"It's been two months already," he said softly.

"Look who's counting," I joked.

"Seriously, Jordan."

"I know…" I paused and fiddled with the fringe of a throw pillow I'd picked up, "it was just… hard… still is, you know? But I'll get through it. I always do." I knew my voice didn't echo the confidence of my words.

"I hope so Jo," he murmured.

I closed my eyes at the sound of my nickname escaping his lips. God, how I'd missed that while I was gone.

A silence fell over the line. I sank back onto my couch, clutching the pillow close to my chest as if it could somehow infuse me with some sort of comfort.

"What were you asking me?" Woody finally asked.

Somewhere between the demanding questions I'd asked and now I had lost my courage. "Oh… it was, um… nothing." I got out half-heartedly.

"Jordan," Woody said sternly, "It was not 'nothing.' You wouldn't call before dawn for nothing. Tell me now." I suddenly realized why Woodrow Hoyt made such a great interrogator; the man could get something out of anyone.

"I was, just cleaning…"

"At four in the morning?" he interrupted.

"Like I said, I haven't been sleeping much. Anyway, I came across this letter – the character reference you wrote for me when I was trying to foster Kayla."

"Oh, that?" Woody now took his turn being the evasive one.

"Yeah, and I'd never read past the first two paragraphs before… until tonight."

"Jeez Jordan, you may want to get in the habit of reading things that people give to you."

"I'll have to try that," I deadpanned. "So anyway… You wrote something about you having pictured me as a mother. Why Woody? Why would you do that?"

I heard him exhale a deep breathe and I knew him well enough to know he was kneading his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. "Come on Jordan," he said hesitantly, "I've seen you put together bigger puzzlers than this one."

"Yes, but why read the book when you've got the Cliff Notes right in front of you?"

"Nice. It's a wonder you made it through medical school with that life theory."

"You know what I mean Woody," I said quietly. "Why should I go searching for answers that may or may not be true when I could just go directly to the source and find a definite answer?"

I heard him sigh again. "I really think you already know the answer to your question, Jo," he told me softly.

"I need to hear it from you," I whispered.

Seconds passed and I could hear him breathing lightly, I figured he was struggling with finding the words to explain. I laid my head back against the cushions and closed my eyes, waiting for him to answer.