AN - Uh, help? I can't list six American beers!

Jordan and Woody looked at each other across her table. They had cups of coffee in front of them, their hands were outstretched to each other. They had carefully placed six babies in a box, lined with a warm fuzzy blanket, and Lizzie was currently inspecting their work. Everything was perfect.

Except that neither of them knew what to say.

"Umm," started Woody. "This is the part of a talk where we, you know, talk."

Jordan smiled a little. "So, it might help if we knew what we're talking about."

Woody sighed, looking into her eyes critically. "OK, that's a good place to start. So, Jordan, what are we talking about?"

"So far, not much."

"Obviously."

"What if we not talk about, what it is we're not talking about, and start with something easier? Like, let's name the six pack."

Woody seemed reluctant to leave the discussion 'at hand' but it was obvious that something had to get them started. "Alright. Well, you said six pack. So, how about Guinness, Bud, Coors, (AN - Molson, Labatt, Kokanee, Schooner, Alpine, Moosehead, and Alexander Keith's - HELP! I need three more American Beers – I'm Eastern Canadian!)"

Jordan looked at him sideways for a moment. Through lidded eyes, she said, "Yeah, but they're underage." Woody gave her a dry look.

"Well it's better than murderers!"

"Yeah, you're probably right. Bud is cute, Coors could be a girl I guess. Guinness would be the tough little guy. (AN – again with the American Beer…)"

Woody raised his coffee mug. "OK, that's settled. Let's drink to the six pack!"

Jordan smiled and 'clinked' mugs with him. "To the six pack!"

They both took a sip of coffee.

And looked at one another.

"Now what?" Jordan couldn't imagine how this moment had come about. They had matured. They had faced death together, (and apart) many times. They had pounded out a successful conclusion to dozens of cases together. Yet, here they were, unable to talk about the most important thing in both of their worlds – each other.

Taking a deep sigh and standing up, Woody took Jordan's hand and pulled her up with him. He held onto her hand as he spoke.

"After everything we've been through, where are we?"

Jordan looked around. "Um, Woody? We're standing in my apartment."

He rolled his eyes, exasperated and a little angry. "Could you at least pretend you're trying?"

Jordan had the decency to look a little guilty. "OK, OK. You're right. It's just that we've never really talked when we'd planned to. The only time something significant happens is when we're in the middle of something else. I guess we just need a context, something completely un-related to our… our…"

"Ok, I'll say it first." Woody took a breath, prepared himself and said, "Our… relationship."

"Yeah, what you said." Quipped Jordan. She smiled and leaned in to give Woody a light kiss. Standing in his gentle embrace, she smiled. "Why is it easier to say the L word than… what you said?"

"How easy is it to say something you refer to as the L word?"

"Aw, jeez." Jordan pulled from him and slumped down on the couch. "I'm still doing it, aren't I?"

"Now that's something we could talk about! What is it you're doing? Because whatever the hell it is, you seem really good at it, and you've been doing it for years."

Jordan moved the hand she had thrown over her eyes. She looked at Woody for a moment. "What am I doing? I'm sabotaging a relationship. And you're right, it's what I do. It's my M.O."

Woody was afraid to move. Finally, some truth.

Jordan continued, "I have ended more relationships than – than – I don't know. It's a lot. I guess the real question is why. Howard thinks it's about my mother. I don't know, everything can't be about my mother, can it?"

Woody still didn't move, but he said, "OK, let's start there. Your mother died in a pool of blood when you were ten. Your father was torn away from you at that same moment. He's lied to you continually since then about everything from your life to his career. You're a medical examiner and you work with dead bodies every day. The father-figure in your life right now doesn't know where his own daughter is. Your best friend just gave birth to her daughter on the conference room table at the morgue. Nigel Townsend gives you advice. You're a medical doctor who can't diagnose pregnancy in a small cat. Umm, did I miss anything? It isn't all about your mother."

"Wow, I am screwed up, aren't I?"

"Jordan, I'm just as screwed-up as you are. The only thing we haven't screwed up is – us. Though God knows we've tried."

"Well, at least Lizzie isn't screwed up. Look, she's got a kitten! Hey, what's she doing?"

"Jordan, can we please focus…"

"No, really, what's she doing?"

They both watched as Lizzie carried the kitten to Jordan's room. As they arrived at her door, Jordan groaned.

"Lizzie! Come on, gimme a break!"

Lizzie carefully placed the last little princess neatly into the nest she had made on Jordan's bed. She chirruped at her pets, (she thought of Woody as her pet now, even if her Jordan hadn't figured it out yet.) She was pleased her humans were watching as she settled down to feed the kids. They had been very kind to clean out her birthing-bed, but they had forgotten to return the babies to their nest. She'd had to make a new one and bring all the little ones back. Really! When would these pets of hers figure out how to take care of children! She watched them, her Woody put his arm around her Jordan's waist. They looked at each other. Lizzie decided it was time for some attention so she chirruped again, and started to purr louder. Sure enough, the big comfy one came over and stretched out beside her, rubbing behind her ears that way he was so good at.

"Well," said Jordan. "I guess she knows what she wants. And she pretty much gets it, too."

Woody looked at her. "What do you want?"

She smiled as she took in his form, stretched out on her bed, gently stroking a mother cat with her babes. "I want you."

"And I want you. But I want you tomorrow, and the next day. Jordan, I want you forever."

"Woody. No, don't move. Here goes – I… really love you. I need you in my life, and I want you forever. In a – relationship. Forever. I love you. OK, it's getting a little easier, let me try again." She took a few steps and stood before him, in her most earnest voice said, "I love you, Woodrow Hoyt. I want to see you… every morning for the rest of my life. I want to make love to you every night." Woody sat up on the bed, ignoring a slightly put-out Lizzie, as Jordan sank to her knees. She looked up into his eyes and very quietly said, "Woody, I want you to marry me."

He had no words. The six pack softly mewled behind them, as they stared into each other's eyes.