Summary: There are just some days where everything seems to go wrong. This was one of them.
A/N: The time has come to write my first CJ fanfiction. I've had ideas for a while but this one will (hopefully) stick around long enough to be finished.
Woody's POV
I swung by the morgue to pick up Jordan on my way to the scene and the body. She came out dragging Devan Maguire into the rain, both using the same Boston PD umbrella rather unsuccessfully.
"Why do we need two coroners? There is only one body." I asked as they got into the car.
"Dev can speak French. Garrett told us guy who called it in didn't know much English, just French." Jordan replied. "Hey, got anything other then "body at old house"? That's all Garrett told us other then the French thing."
"I can add it's a male to that, but nothing more." I said.
"You're going to have to let me to a lot of the talking," Devan leaned closer to the front seats. "French people are supposedly very loving and all, but you can't mess with them."
"And you'd know this how?" As I turned the corner, I suddenly realized I knew very little about Devan. No matter really, she was only suppose to do a two month rotation residenticy.
"My mother lives in Paris." She sat back against her seat.
I nodded my head, not really paying attention to her as I was trying to navigate the sudden downpour, the light rain it had been hadn't been much of a problem but now it was really pouring, and the traffic wasn't going to be my friend today.
As we drove along, Jordan kept switching the radio stations in hopes of finding some folksy songs and for once, Devan wasn't talking the whole time. Every other time I had to go on a call with her, she just chattered and chattered. "Jor, can't you just choose something?" I finally asked.
"There is nothing to choose from." she flipped it off. "What kind of world is it when electric instraments have become part of folk music?"
"A much more sane one," I thought to myself. As much as I love Jordan sometimes her music choices can be annoying.
"Well, actually," Devan started.
"Don't even finish it, Maguire." Jordan cut her off.
"Fine. But I was just going to say that realistically most folk music use electric because the artists think that is what the listeners want to hear."
Again Jordan cut her off, "I don't want to hear it." Whether she meant she didn't want to hear Devan or electric folk music, I wasn't sure but I could tell something was up by the way she kept flipping the stations and cutting Devan off in midsentence.
Well? It's kind of taken a different turn then I was planning but I think it still is decent enough. Every chapter will be from a different point of view, it will be stated at the beginning of each chapter as to who's point of view it is. Please review so I know someone is reading this!
A/N: The time has come to write my first CJ fanfiction. I've had ideas for a while but this one will (hopefully) stick around long enough to be finished.
Woody's POV
I swung by the morgue to pick up Jordan on my way to the scene and the body. She came out dragging Devan Maguire into the rain, both using the same Boston PD umbrella rather unsuccessfully.
"Why do we need two coroners? There is only one body." I asked as they got into the car.
"Dev can speak French. Garrett told us guy who called it in didn't know much English, just French." Jordan replied. "Hey, got anything other then "body at old house"? That's all Garrett told us other then the French thing."
"I can add it's a male to that, but nothing more." I said.
"You're going to have to let me to a lot of the talking," Devan leaned closer to the front seats. "French people are supposedly very loving and all, but you can't mess with them."
"And you'd know this how?" As I turned the corner, I suddenly realized I knew very little about Devan. No matter really, she was only suppose to do a two month rotation residenticy.
"My mother lives in Paris." She sat back against her seat.
I nodded my head, not really paying attention to her as I was trying to navigate the sudden downpour, the light rain it had been hadn't been much of a problem but now it was really pouring, and the traffic wasn't going to be my friend today.
As we drove along, Jordan kept switching the radio stations in hopes of finding some folksy songs and for once, Devan wasn't talking the whole time. Every other time I had to go on a call with her, she just chattered and chattered. "Jor, can't you just choose something?" I finally asked.
"There is nothing to choose from." she flipped it off. "What kind of world is it when electric instraments have become part of folk music?"
"A much more sane one," I thought to myself. As much as I love Jordan sometimes her music choices can be annoying.
"Well, actually," Devan started.
"Don't even finish it, Maguire." Jordan cut her off.
"Fine. But I was just going to say that realistically most folk music use electric because the artists think that is what the listeners want to hear."
Again Jordan cut her off, "I don't want to hear it." Whether she meant she didn't want to hear Devan or electric folk music, I wasn't sure but I could tell something was up by the way she kept flipping the stations and cutting Devan off in midsentence.
Well? It's kind of taken a different turn then I was planning but I think it still is decent enough. Every chapter will be from a different point of view, it will be stated at the beginning of each chapter as to who's point of view it is. Please review so I know someone is reading this!