Here we go again!

Firstly, I do not own Crossing Jordan.

Secondly, I would like to thank my reviewers, so KJ22, BugFan4Ever, SpencerReid187, XxLynnxX, thanks.

Summary: After a traumatic event, Woody's life is in danger and in his mind life goes on in a parallel universe. Now is Jordan's turn to save him.


Chapter 3: Necessary Risks

Kate and Nigel were waiting for Jordan outside her building, beside the motorcycle. Jordan came out with a man. The familiarity between them was rather strange. The man was handsome, tall, a little scruffy, middle-aged and with a flame of intelligence burning in his stare. Nigel couldn't say of whom exactly this man reminded him.

"And who might you be?" asked Kate when the siblings were close to them. Rudeness was one of her traits, and the fact that Woody was practically dying at the hospital while this man was showing way too much interest in Jordan just enhanced her impoliteness.

"Let's say that I'm a man dragged into a family quest." He was used to answering in riddles, and his reply reminded them of the clues leading to Rickman. It sunk in rather rapidly on them who he was.

Nigel's eyes widened and he almost choked. "What?!" He coughed, trying to regain his breath and his composure. "Are you saying that you're James Horton?" The words came out almost in a whisper. He was obviously afraid that someone could hear him.

"You could say so," replied James, enjoying every reaction that his sister's goth friend had displayed.

"Oh! Come on, Nigel, no one can hear you here, and no one cares. Yes, he is James, and he's offered to come with us," Jordan said, a little annoyed that they received her brother reluctantly.

Kate's stance changed to a more amused one, although she had her doubts about how sensible it was to hang out with an outlaw, no matter how handsome or intelligent he was. "Is it wise to go searching for Woody's brother with your brother, Jordan?"

Nigel kept nodding nervously, moving his disturbed, wide-open eyes from one woman to the other. James could hardly hold back a joyful scorn because of this goth friend of Jordan's. How could he possible be of any use in their search?

"I'm much more acquainted with the roads we'll have to take to find the detective's brother. I bet that he's not a regular at Saint Inez," retorted James.

"Ok, while we're showing each other our credentials, why don't we hit the road? Good bye, Kate. Take care of Evander, please." Jordan handed her keys to the other woman and headed to the cab which was already waiting.


"Ok, but you have to promise me you won't laugh…" Both men nodded, and she took a deep breath, "I had to tell them that I was his fiancée."

She was admiring the ring she had taken from Woody's apartment during their first attempt to locate Cal. It was the ring that had been destined to her long time ago, and she'd been really surprised to find it almost in plain sight. How come he'd never gotten rid of it? Well, then it had meant friendship, now it meant hope to her.

"Not exactly that I'm lying, but anticipating the future, don't you think?" Jordan bit her lip, glancing back to Nigel, while James, who was driving her SUV, chocked a snort. "You know how small town people can be. They wouldn't be satisfied if I were anything less than that".

"So, what are we, love? Your maids of honor?" Nigel asked, holding back laughter.

"Nigel! This is difficult for me, please."

After this response, everybody remained silent until they arrived to the Hoyts' house in Kewaunee. She had imagined it as a farm, as she always thought of Woody as her farm boy – talk about stereotypes. She wasn't prepared for a small-town house, old and abandoned, and having nothing to do with a farm. All they could see during the drive from downtown to there were green forests and the beautiful view of Lake Michigan. The house was certainly nowhere near the town centre, and they had to take a difficult road to get there – "a dotted line on the map" would be Woody's way of describing it.

The sheriff was waiting for them at the entrance door, sitting on a chair that threatened to collapse.

"Dr. Cavanaugh," he greeted her, standing up and extending his hand for a shake.

Jordan took his hand and introduced her partners to him. "Dr. Nigel Townsend and Dr. James, er…" she hesitated a little, but finished, "Walden."

James shot her a killing look. Nigel shook the sheriff's hand too, but James just acknowledged him with a nod.

"I'm very sorry, Doc. I don't know what you expect to find here, but I'll do my best to help you. How is Woody doing?"

Sheriff Banks was not much older than Woody. He was tall, blond, green-eyed, nothing out of the ordinary. He was showing his concern and talked as he cared about Woody's condition.

Jordan watched him while he was trying to open the door. She was wondering what kind of relationship the sheriff and her Woody had had. She had dreaded to come to this town, full of secrets to her, full of memories that she didn't know about… She sighed. "Not good, Sheriff. His best chance of coming out of this alive is Cal."

"Cal… As I told you before, the last time I saw him was right after he'd returned from visiting Woody in Boston, er… like three years ago. He told us he was going to try his luck in New York. He gets really animated when he's in trouble, and he looked pretty animated to me. After one week or so, he left. He asked me to take care of his key. 'In case Woody comes back,' he said. I could tell he wasn't planning to come back… I haven't been here since then…" The Sheriff was struggling with the lock while he talked.

The door finally opened, but the construction was so deteriorated that the door fell off its hinges and almost collapsed onto their heads. Banks and Nigel stopped the fall, and James helped them from the inside to return the door to a standing position.

"How did you get in there?" Jordan questioned her brother, looking amazed at his sudden appearance.

"Hey, sis, professional secrets…" He glanced towards where Banks and Nigel were trying to put the door against the wall.

"I guess you'll have to spend the night with no lock… There isn't really anything to be scared of, but I would try to block the door." Banks estimated the extent of the damage and shook his head.

"Don't worry Sheriff, I'll fix it," James reassured him.

"Alright, call me if you need anything." Sheriff Banks glanced at the man and nodded. "Anything. Woody's a good friend, I would like to be helpful." He was now looking at Jordan and offering his hand for a goodbye. "Oh, I almost forgot!" Banks took a letter out of his coat pocket, "Cal also left me this to give it to Woody, but I guess as you're his fiancée and he can't come to get it, it's alright that I give it to you." He handed the letter to Jordan.

The letter was burning her hands. It might contain some clues about Cal's disappearance. "Yes, sheriff, believe me, I'll keep your offer in mind," she told him as they shook hands. Everybody remained silent, watching Banks leaving in his truck. After a moment, Jordan headed inside, followed by the two men.


Meanwhile...

"Oh, come on, Jordan," he almost whined. "I need it."

Her lips curled into a smile. "And to think I've always pegged you as a gentleman."

"What's so ungentlemanly about this?" he asked, choosing to ignore the tsk sounds she was making. "I have certain needs I have to fulfill."

"Well, those needs of yours might lead to your untimely death," she pointed out.

"Yeah?" His eyebrows shot up. "How so? Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Do you know how much fat this thing has in it?" For a moment she studied the label on the precious jar she had been holding behind her back. "Your cholesterol's bound to fly off the charts. I'm trying to do you a favor here," she said in such a tone as though she was reasoning with a stubborn child. "So I'm going to eat it. For a greater good," she concluded.

Woody glanced at his beloved peanut butter. "Oh, how nice of you!" His grin was every bit as sarcastic as the voice in which he'd uttered the words. "But we wouldn't want your cholesterol flying off the charts, either, would we?"

"No worries," she retorted nonchalantly, unscrewing the lid. "We had a health check two weeks ago. I'm fit as a fiddle." She grinned.

"Don't you wanna stay that way?" He took something from the fridge. "This nice low-fat butter is very beneficial to one's health, I'm sure."

"Meh," she shrugged, "you can have it." Then she smiled a devilish little smile. "It's great that it's low-fat. We wouldn't want you to put on weight, would we now?" She looked up from the sandwich she was preparing. Her look was that of pure innocence, though she was finding it hard to keep a straight face. He was always a bit touchy when it came to his weight. "And you could easily get out of shape in these two weeks."

"It's eleven days now," he muttered. "And what do you mean by that?" He almost glared at her.

"Well, all that junk food you've been ordering in and those supplies of cherry-flavored Pez will hardly do any good to your figure, I reckon."

"Oh, yeah?!" He rolled his shirt up. "Check up these abs! You could do laundry on 'em!"

She grinned her Cheshire cat grin. "Oh, yes, I could," she admitted, her voice turning silky. "But I have something else in mind…" she confessed, slowly running her hands across his abs.

He lifted her chin and claimed her lips. "Like what, for example?" he murmured between little kisses.

"Oh, I don't know. I've got a few ideas rolling around in my head," she all but purred. "We'll see," she added, pulling away, "in about eleven days." She smiled at him, returning to her sandwiches.

He pursed his lips. "Anybody ever told you how mean you are?"

"I get that all the time."

He sighed and gave her a peck on the cheek. "The game's probably started," he muttered and proceeded to the living room.

Just as he found the most comfortable position, she entered the room, a tray with peanut butter sandwiches and two big glasses of orange juice in her hands. She put it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You do know I was teasing you, right?" she asked, a bit apprehensive, as she sat beside him.

When he didn't answer in about five seconds, she continued, "Oh, c'mon!" She smacked him playfully on the arm. "If I'm capable of watching the Badgers," she glanced towards the TV, "I'm capable of anything – even if it's sharing the last of the peanut butter."

He pulled her closer and kissed her hair. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"Nice to hear it."

After a few minutes she began to fidget. "I can't hear a thing." She frowned. "You found that remote yet?"

He shook his head. "It's like it's vanished into thin air."

"I'll find it, alright." She stood up. "I'm tired of getting up every five seconds."

"Just leave it, Jordan." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll look it up later."

But she was already in front of the shelf occupying one of the walls. "I'm gonna find it now," she told him, moving books, magazines and photos in the search of the lost remote control.

Managing to take his eyes off of the TV for a second, he threw her a glance and his blood ran cold. "Jordan, it's definitely not…" But it was too late. "…there," he finished as she was staring at the small black box she found very familiar.


A/N Hey! I don't own the little reference about laundry that you had just found, that is from "You Really Got Me" episode. Ah! and don't leave me this way, please stop for a minute and review! It might stop me from leaving you waiting too long. (I said, it might...)