Sickness and Health (Part One)
A Crossing Jordan/House Crossover Fanfic
Chapter One: Is it Weird?
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,323
Disclaimer: I own House. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except seasons 1 & 2 on DVD and my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan.
Summary: Bodies in the Boston Morgue have ties to dying patients at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital.
Author's Note: This is my first Crossing Jordan fanfic & my second House fanfic. The characters may be very, very OOC. It is possible. I have no medical or forensic experience, therefore anything I write is probably very wrong. In fact, I'm almost positive it is wrong. But I wrote it anyway. This is set somewhere after season 2 of House and season 5 of Crossing Jordan, written without seeing any of season 3 or 6 respectively, so... It's not canon... no siree... This has also not been beta'd...if it's not perfect, that's 100 percent my fault.

Chapter One

Is it Weird?

"Is it weird?" she asked, looking over Bug's shoulder. "'Cause I like weird."

"Jordan," Bug said with a sigh, setting down his scalpel and looking back at her. "I thought that you had a case."

"I did. It wasn't interesting. Definitely a stroke," she answered, smiling innocently at him. "I even finished the paperwork sitting on my desk. Now that Garret's out of shock, he's thrilled. So…What have you got?"

Bug shook his head, but he gave in to the inevitable. "This man could have died from any one of five causes. His heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys all failed. Or it could be something else, like the puncture wound on his arm."

"You think that this was drug induced?" Jordan asked, straining to get closer to the body and look at the puncture wound herself. Bug reluctantly let her pass. She looked at the mark and frowned.

"I don't know why he died, not yet. It's like all his major organs failed at once. It's impossible to tell which went first and actually caused his death," Bug admitted.

"That is weird," Jordan agreed.

"Gets even weirder, love," Nigel said as he came in, handing her a paper. Bug made a face, but she wasn't wearing bloody gloves. He was. "Tox screen is clean."

Jordan read the results, frowning. "What did this, then? Who is this guy? We have an id yet?"

"Walter Chambers, forty-seven," Nigel answered. "Hospital transfer."

"So, we have what looks like a fast acting poison—or maybe one we don't know to test for yet—that cleared his body," Jordan said, tapping her finger on the toxicology report.

"Wait a minute," Bug said. "What makes you so sure this is poison?"

"I don't know anything natural that causes multiple organ failure rapidly enough to go undiagnosed, do you? And it has to be fast acting because if it was still in his system, the hospital's tests should have caught it," she explained. "Whatever this is, they didn't catch it or he wouldn't be here."

"Jordan—"

"Come on, Bug. It's weird," Jordan said, smiling. She wanted in on this case.

"Yeah," Bug agreed. "But it's Woody's case."

Jordan had to regret her big mouth. It was always getting her in trouble. Like now. She hadn't meant to get involved in one of Woody's cases, not intentionally. Occasionally, she was the answering ME on his cases, but she didn't butt in on them anymore, not since he'd started dating Lu Simmons, not since JD's death. But she'd made the mistake of opening her mouth to correct one of Bug's assumptions just as Garret's bad mood and impatience to leave on a long anticipated vacation and Woody's insistence that he had to have one of the morgue staff with him coincided. Now she was stuck in a morgue transport with Woody and two dead bodies on her way to Princeton Plainsboro Hospital.

"We could talk," she began.

"Since when is that ever a good idea for us?" he asked, not looking away from the window. She'd thought things would be different once she was cleared of JD's death, but things had only gotten worse between her and Woody. They were back to the way they'd been just after Woody's shooting, barely speaking and hardly civil.

She shrugged. "We've got a couple hours to kill. Talking would pass the time."

"We would not be in this mess if not for you," he shot back angrily. His fingers tapped the glass irritably. She knew what he meant. He would not be in this mess if he had not tried to help her during JD's case. He'd been suspended for three weeks, relegated to desk duty, and now he was playing babysitter to a corpse.

"Okay, true, this is kind of my fault," she began. This time he did look at her, his glare was full of disgust. "Okay, so it's my fault. That doesn't mean that we can't talk. We can. How are things with you and Lu?"

"Jordan, don't," Woody said with a sigh. "Just…don't. We don't need to do this."

"Do what?" she asked, feigning innocence. "I'm just trying to have a civil conversation. Why can't we do that?"

"Because you're not trying to have a conversation. If you were, you wouldn't have asked about Lu. I know you're angry because I said we should take it slow—"

"Which really meant you wanted to sleep with Lu Simmons," she shot back, losing her patience. "I thought—I thought we finally had our timing right for a change."

"We didn't," he said coldly, staring at the road. She looked at him. So much for any conversation on this drive. She should have known she'd pick the worst possible way to find out if he was still with Simmons.

This was going to be a very long trip.

"Congratulations, Morons," House said, coming into the diagnosis room. "You're getting some help on this one."

"Help?" Foreman asked dubiously. Chase looked up from his folder briefly, wondering if House really meant it. Cameron rolled her eyes, probably taking offense to the moron comment. "What do you mean, help?"

"Turns out that our patient shows the same symptoms as a couple of dead guys up in Boston. Well, one dead guy, one dead girl. And they're bringing us the bodies and two more brains. Though one's a cop, so we might have another Chase on our hands," House explained.

"House—"

"So, any minute now, we'll have a medical examiner and one of Boston's finest here with our bodies," House continued as if no one had spoken. "Hopefully, they'll tell us what this is before our patient kicks it. When they get here, Cameron and Foreman, you keep them busy. No sense in sending Chase. Not enough brain power."

This time Chase rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he was the one House was picking on today, and he didn't care. Cameron started to stand, gathering her folders. Foreman sighed, reluctantly following House's orders.

Cuddy stormed into the room. "Why am I just now finding out that you have two bodies, a medical examiner, and a policeman downstairs? Apparently here for you?"

"The bodies belong to people who have died of what Mr. Marsham is now dying of. But they wouldn't let me have them without the cop or the ME. Seems they think it was murder."

"Murder?" the exclamation came from the other four of them, and it was deafening. House made a face.

"Geez, say it a little louder, would you?" House asked. "They say it's murder. I say they're probably idiots."

"Well, I have to say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. House," a dark haired woman quipped from the doorway.

"You must be Dr. Cavanaugh," House said. "And the tall, dark, and stupid one is Detective Hoyt."

The man glared at House. Chase looked at him, wondering why he seemed to hate the sight of House's cane so much. He was staring with knowledge…and fear. Chase wondered if Hoyt knew what it was to face painful rehabilitation like House had just done. Interesting.

"Dr. House," Cavanaugh interrupted his thoughts. "I have the preliminary autopsy reports if you'd like to read them."

"Give them to Chase," House said, throwing a marker at Chase to distinguish him. Chase didn't duck in time, and the marker hit him above the eyebrow. He groaned and picked it up from where it landed on the floor. Cavanaugh handed him the folder.

Cuddy pointed a finger at House. "We need to talk."

"Yes, Mommy," House mocked. "After I talk to Dr. Cavanaugh and her caveman. Chase, read those reports and summarize them. Cameron, Foreman, help the caveman put the bodies away. Dr. Cavanaugh, why don't you tell me what little you know?"

The woman had watched the byplay with amusement and shrugged. "Sure thing, Dr. House."

"House," Cuddy ground out. "My office. Now."