Disclaimer: not mine. Not one bit. For crying out loud, just disclaim the whole site and be done with it already! Owning something is the exception, not the norm, therefore we should not be required to put these…

A/N: Ok, done with that little rant. I saw the episode with the heroin soaked clothing… that was a little freaky. And Woody opened up to Dr. Macy, and so I thought, what if he'd talked with Jordan after he bought her dinner (which we assume he did, because he's Woody)… Please review. If you really hate it, instead of flaming me, could you send me ice or something? I'm Alaskan, so I'm more comfortable in the cold. Flames are fine too, I guess.

"So, Woody, I heard you had heroin problem?" Jordan's tone was light, but there was an edge to it, like maybe she cared more than she was letting on.

He spun on his stool, glaring furiously. "I am not and never will be a drug addict."

Jordan put up her hands in defense. "Hey, Woody, that's not what I meant. Not at all. I just heard that you guys had had a case involving heroin smuggling and that you somehow overdosed. I was just curious about how that happened. I mean, you aren't the type to do drugs, and I can't imagine you'd let anyone get close enough to stick you with a needle…"

He turned back to his drink, shaking his head. "No. The heroin had been bonded to sweaters, and I touched one and then rubbed at my eye. I got a huge dose of heroin, and if I'd been alone I would have died."

Jordan reached a hand over to his shoulder, touching it lightly to get him to look at her. "Hey, Woody, there's more to it than that. What's bothering you so much about this?"

It was nothing, and he opened his mouth to tell her so, but instead, out came, "My brother had a drug problem. He says he's clean now, but I'm not sure whether I should believe him." He put his head in his hands, barely noticing when Jordan started rubbing his back in small, soothing circles. "It made him horrible, someone he wasn't. It was so hard to watch him destroying himself and not be able to do anything about it. I hate all drugs, I never even tried them in high school. Those few seconds when I was still conscious, I learned everything I ever wanted to know about overdosing on illegal substances. And you know what? I learned everything I didn't want to know, too. The idea that this woman caused her fiancé's death by using him as a courier for drugs, and the idea that I almost died of a drug overdose… Me!"

He took a minute to collect himself. "You know, heroin is one of the hardest drugs to get off of. I heard that in England, in the subway stations, they put up posters of kids going through heroin withdrawal to keep people off heroin. You know what? They stopped doing that, because people took the posters down and kept them because they thought they looked cool." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Well, at least only three people died. Of course, two more also got sick, including me. It's a sad world where we can't put on a sweater without worrying about ODing on heroin."

"You're right." Jordan leaned forward, arm still across Woody's shoulders. "But you got two dealers and potentially a lot more off the streets. You did it, Woody, you busted them. Sure, there will always be drug dealers, but you got rid of a lot of heroin. Think about it, how many kids did you just save? How many kids might have started their addiction with that stuff? I know it's hard, but you did good, Woody. Really. In fact," she pulled her wallet out, "Dinner should have been on me. So here." She handed him the cost of dinner. "Let's go find something to do to take your mind off of this."

"No thanks, Jordan. I paid for the food, I think I'm going to go back home and crash." He pushed the bills back towards her.

"Suit yourself." She replaced the money in her wallet and put on her coat. Ruffling his hair in a sisterly fashion, she headed for the door, calling back over her shoulder, "You aren't your brother, Woody. And if he's anything like you, you should believe him when he says he's clean."

Woody watched her go, then turned back to his drink. "God, do I hate heroin."

"Oi, Woody!" He glanced up, and saw that Jordan had stuck her head back in the door.

"Yeah?"

"It might make you feel better if you burn all of your cream sweaters."

A/N: Review, please! If the thing about England isn't correct, don't blame me, blame my grandmother. When she took me to England (and believe me, we were both lucky to come back alive from that trip, we do NOT get along well), she ranted about it for most of a forty-five minute subway ride.