A/N: This chapter bounces around a couple of times, so I hope that it comes off making sense.

And let me apologize that somehow a section of this chapter ended up being a love letter of sorts from me to running. You'll see what I mean. ;) And I will answer a question I know will come up. Yes, it IS possible to talk while running. In fact, once you've gotten the hang of it, it's how you know you're going at the right pace- if you can carry on a conversation. And if you haven't tried running I highly suggest you give it a try. Every word of what I said below is the truth, and there is nothing as simplistic and challenging at the same time as running.

Okay, enough of my sales pitch for running... Oh, and the title for this chapter comes from the Tom Petty song of the same name. ;)

And as always, I own nothing...

Enjoy!

"You're kidding me!" I said incredulously, glancing up at him as I unlocked my red door and opened it.

"No," he promised, holding his right hand up as if to pledge his honesty. "I'm serious. You have to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Some people spend years trying to get good enough so they can run it," he told me as we walked into the kitchen area and put down the grocery bags we were carrying.

I had stopped at the market on the way home to buy the magic-waffle ingredients Woody would need while he popped home for a quick shower. He met me just as I had got to my building, grabbing a few of the bags from my hands.

"How have I lived here almost my entire life and not known that?" I asked in awe as I started unloading the groceries.

"I don't know, Jo. But it's true. So if you're serious about the marathon thing, then we'll have to find another to shoot for." he told me with a wink of his eye.

"All right. How about we break out good-old-Google in a while. I'm sure we can find one."

"Sounds good. So," Woody asked as he started pulling out the necessary kitchen supplies he'd need, which made me smile because he was so at home here that he never had to ask where anything was, "do you want to shower while I get these going?"

"Yeah. You've de-stunk yourself, so I should probably do the same."

"De-stunk?" he raised an eyebrow at me in that sexy way he has.

"Shut up," I joked as I turned and headed toward the bathroom.

0-0-0-0

As the water poured down over my body I smiled to myself over how far Woody and I had gone that morning, not just in miles of pavement, but in regards to us as well. True, we had probably covered a good twelve miles that morning, but more important than that was what those miles had allowed us to talk about.

There is something extremely therapeutic about running. People often talk of a "runner's high" but it's not so much of a high, as it is a clarity. When I run by myself it is those times when my mind finally lets go of all of its constraints and I'm free... free to think and feel on a level I just can't- or for some reason won't- handle during normal day-to-day life.

And when Woody and I run together something entirely different and astounding happens. Running with someone is like taking a truth serum. As the miles pass by, the more you become willing to share- and you share things that you would never be able to talk about if you were sitting around with a beer or a cup of coffee. I don't know if it has to do with your bodies moving in sync with one another; your hearts beating in time; or the rhythmic pattern or your breathing, inhaling and exhaling a little bit of each other's souls. Or maybe it's just that you are looking ahead, not at each other, and whatever words pass through your lips are left behind on the pavement as you move forward. But whatever the reason, it allows you to talk freely, in almost a confessional-type of way. In fact, I thought, all therapy sessions should be done on a running path... it would make it all so much easier.

I made a mental note to mention that to Dr. Stiles.

It's no wonder that some of my favorite moments with Woody in the past were of our morning runs together. It was more than just seeing him first thing that made my day start off just that much better. On those runs we opened up... shared things we didn't really like to talk about.

The first mile or two were filled with talk about the weather and what we had for dinner the night before. Then we'd move on to our tough cases, and help each other in finding something we'd missed before. Then around mile four came the deeper stuff. The majority of what I knew about his mother and father came from those runs, and I shared with him my favorite and not-so-favorite memories of my mother.

But we never did get around to talking about the most important thing: us. That is, until today.

This morning we started off just like always, talking about the generic things of every day life. By mile four we watched the sun rise as I was telling him about my time in Washington and my current sleeping, or rather non-sleeping, issues. The minutes and miles ticked by and as we ran along the harbor we began to share more. By mile seven he was telling me about why it was that he ran to Lu. At mile eight I told him about J.D.'s malaria comment. Somewhere around mile nine I confessed that I been planning on asking for the ring back before he was shot. He chuckled and told me it was still sitting in his dresser at home. And not long before we made it back to our cars at the docks I told him I'd had visions of a little blue-eyed baby boy...

As we sat on the hood of my El Camino, covered in sweat and gulping down our bottles of water, I glanced over at him. He looked happy. I smiled.

"You look happy," he commented as he nudged me with his shoulder.

I laughed, "You read my mind. I was just thinking the same thing about you."

His blue eyes, that mirrored the color of the cloudless morning sky, focused on mine. "I am happy," he said simply. "Why can't we always be like this Jo?"

I shrugged. "Maybe we think we have too much to hide. Too much baggage. Maybe we think if we are honest about our feelings we will scare the other one away."

He looked away and nodded. "Yeah." He continued looking off in the distance for a moment before he cocked his head to the side and looked at me. "But I like us like this."

"You and me both, Farm Boy." We sat in silence for a moment.

"How about we do this all the time then?" he asked as he stood up.

"What? Run?" I asked, hopping off the hood.

"No... Well, yeah, that too..." he opened his car door and tossed in his water bottle. "But I meant the honesty thing."

I brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen from my ponytail. "Honesty, huh? Hmmm... novel concept," I said with a smirk.

Woody rolled his eyes. "Yes, Jordan, honesty." He leaned back against the door frame of his car and rested his arm on the open door. "We spend every day of our lives working to find the truth, and yet with each other it seems too much to ask. I think the people we care about deserve the truth just as much as the victims who cross our paths."

"Smart and sexy," I teased as I flashed him a smile. "How have you not been snatched up yet?"

Woody groaned. "Seriously, Jordan."

"Sorry. Old habits die hard I guess." I leaned against my own car facing him. "Honesty?"

"Yeah, honesty." The bright morning sun lit his face with hope. "You told me not too long ago that you'd grown up. Well, so have I, Jo. And maybe it's about time we both started acting like it with each other. What do you say?"

"Honestly," I pursed my lips in thought, "I think it's worth a try."

"Wanna test it out?" he asked with a smile.

"Sure," I laughed.

"You look sexy in your running clothes," he grinned at me wickedly.

I looked down at myself and then up at him and raised an eyebrow. He simply nodded with the smile still plastered on his face.

I laughed again. "Well, not as sexy as you do when you're wearing your holster."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Reeeeaaallly?" he asked mischievously. "I'll have to remember that."

"You do that." I pushed myself off of the car. "I'll go get the things for the waffles," I told him as I walked around to the driver's side, "You go shower and I'll meet you at my place in a half an hour?"

"Sounds good," he said as I opened my door.

He moved to sit down in his car as I called out, "Hey Woody!" He paused and looked up. "What do you say we run the Boston Marathon together?"

He laughed out loud at that.

"What?!" I asked, slightly confused by his obvious amusement.

"I'll tell you later!" he called as he shut his car door, still chuckling to himself.

0-0-0-0-0

I climbed out of the shower and toweled off my hair. I threw on a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt and started brushing through my hair as I came out to the kitchen.

Woody looked up from the bowl of batter he was mixing and smiled at me. "I'm just finishing off the batter. I still need to cook them."

I put the hairbrush down and walked to the counter. "Want any help?" I asked, leaning over so my arms rested on the counter top.

He glanced at me sideways. "No. You go rest for a few minutes. No offense, but you look exhausted." He smiled knowingly, "I guess that's what not sleeping will do to a person."

I grimaced. "That or the running for two hours straight." I walked over to the couch and plopped myself down on it. A wave of fatigue washed over me.

I laid down against a pillow and watched Woody as he began pouring the batter into the waffle iron. It had been over five years since he came into my life. He had definitely changed over the years, but so had I, I suppose. Little was left of the mid-western Farm Boy who was so unfamiliar with big city life. But every now and then when he'd get excited about something I could see a spark of it, and it never failed to make me smile.

My eyes became heavy and I began to blink slowly. I continued to watch him as he softly sang a song I couldn't make out. The years have been kind to him, I thought; in fact, in many ways he looks better today than he did in years past. He glanced up at me and flashed me a smile. Gorgeous, I thought, as I smiled back and closed my eyes.

0-0-0-0-0

"Jordan," I felt the tickle of a whisper against my ear, but I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. "Jordan," again I heard him whisper, "breakfast is ready."

"Mmmhmm..." I think I mumbled back. I felt his arms sneak underneath my form on the couch and then the loss of the softness of the cushions as he lifted me into his arms. "Where're we going?" I asked sleepily, my eyes still glued shut.

"To bed," he answered simply as he carried me to my bedroom.

"But breakfast?" I mumbled.

"Can be re-heated. I think you need sleep more than food." He placed me gently in my bed and pulled the covers up over my body. I felt him brush a strand of hair off my face. I opened my eyes and was met with a vision of his blue eyes gazing back at me from above. "I'll be back later," he said softly.

"No..." I said as I reached for his hand. "Stay?" I asked.

He looked at me questioningly, "You sure, Jo?"

"Honestly?" I smiled. "I've never been more sure of anything." I pulled him down towards me.

He laid down alongside me and snaked his arm around my waist, "Honestly," he whispered, "neither have I."

Content, I closed my eyes again and felt him kiss me softly on the forehead as I drifted off to sleep, somehow knowing that my nights of insomnia were no more.

-End