Sickness and Health (Part One)
A Crossing Jordan/House Crossover Fanfic
Chapter Four: Suspicion Darkens the Door
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,834
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.

House always has an agenda. If he seemed OOC last chapter, this should explain why. Apologies in advance if anyone is OOC.

Chapter Four

Suspicion Darkens the Door

"You have got to be kidding me," Cavanaugh said, her arms full of Mr. Marsham's tissues. "There's nothing here. Heart, liver, kidneys, lungs, all failed. But the reason they failed…There's no sign of it."

Cameron looked at her, shaking her head. "How can that be? If there's a disease or toxilogical cause, there must be something—we have to find something—a way to cure Mrs. Dillard or—"

Chase put a hand on Cameron's shoulder. "Whatever this is, it's too bloody quick. But we've eliminated the common causes. Think uncommon."

"I don't know—a modified form of Ebola? A super drug? Nothing causes this, Chase. You know that. I know that. Dr. Cavanaugh knows that," Cameron said angrily. Her frustration and anger overwhelmed her. Marsham's wife and kids were out of state, visiting her parents. The woman didn't even know her husband was sick, and now he was dead, leaving two young children behind. Cameron felt like hitting something, and Chase was the closest thing. He'd stepped into her path, blocking her. She pounded his chest a few times—not hard, she was upset, not homicidal—before she stopped, bursting into tears. He wrapped an arm around her.

"If," Dr. Cavanaugh cleared her throat, doing her best to ignore Cameron's outburst, despite the sympathy in her eyes, "if these people were killed, then they must have something in common. I know that Nigel and Bug were working on connecting the victims to each other. That link is probably a person since the latest cases were in New Jersey. We need to involve the local police, try and find that link."

Chase looked at her. "House won't cooperate with the police. Can't your detective friend—"

"Woody is out of his jurisdiction here," Cavanaugh interrupted softly. "And he's been assigned to watch over the bodies. If he left…"

Chase looked at her dubiously. "Wouldn't he prefer whatever might happen to watching a body? It's bloody boring. He's probably going out of his mind."

Before Cavanaugh could answer, House poked his head into the room. "Hello, kiddies. Got anything for me?"

"No." Cameron turned away, out of Chase's arms, trying to compose herself. She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, and straightened her hair and blouse. Cavanaugh kept House busy by explaining what she'd found to him; he didn't believe her and bombarded her with questions.

"What about the stomach contents?" House demanded. "What if Marsham ate some of—"

Cavanaugh's cell phone rang. She held up a finger to silence House. Cameron had to stifle laughter. No one did that to House. "Hey, Nige. What?"

Though the voice on the other end of the line seemed loud enough, Cameron was too far away to make out what the man was saying. Cavanaugh frowned. "No. That can't be right, Nige. No. No, he would have told us. Right. I'll talk to you later."

She snapped the phone shut. House studied her. "Another boyfriend?"

Cavanaugh stripped off her gloves and surgical robe, running out of the room. Cameron was reminded of the way Hoyt had stormed after Cavanaugh earlier, and of the way that she'd found the coroner on the rooftop. She followed instinctively, despite how Cavanaugh was running at a breakneck pace to reach the stairs, going down to the morgue.

Hoyt looked up from the coffee cup he'd been studying as they approached. "Jordan—"

"Why didn't you tell me? Tell us? Damn it, Woody, you knew them. You met Chambers and Anderson before they went into the hospital."

"What? Jordan, I never saw either of them in my life," Hoyt said, and Cameron couldn't miss the hurt look in his eyes at her lack of trust. This man wore his feelings on his sleeve. "I had to run down some people on another case, one was named Chambers, but I never met him. I was called to a crime scene. I don't know anything about Anderson. There was a Henderson on that other case. I saw her for a minute before Bug called to tell me Chambers was a possible homicide."

"I'd take his word for it if I were you," House said, spooking all of them. "Unless you're a very messy eater, Detective, I'd say that's blood on your sleeve. Not much, just enough to be from a sloppy needle pusher. Cameron, admit him and put him on everything the other guy was on."

Hoyt looked at his shirt, at the small reddish stain on the sleeve. "What the hell?"

"Oh, god, Woody," Cavanaugh said. "They think—"

"Cameron, get him in a damn bed," House ordered. "Now."

Hoyt shook his head, rolling up his sleeve. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. The morgue is the coldest room in this hospital, which could explain why you're shivering, but you're also sweating. You took off your coat jacket, which means you're past the initial stage of the fever. Your body's temperature has risen, so you feel warm, but you're also cold. And you can't blame your coffee. It was already cold," House said. "I think you'd better tell us how you got that mark."

"I don't—I—Jordan, I swear I don't know. That stain wasn't there before. I changed my shirt right before we left," he looked at her, pleading, all his anger lost in his desperation to make sense of what was happening.

Cavanaugh nodded. "I remember. Bug got some of the stomach contents on you. You nearly threw up, and I let you change in my office because you were being such a baby. But that means that the injection happened—"

"After we got here," Hoyt finished. His eyes were full of fear, his face full of confusion. "I don't remember it, Jordan. I don't remember that happening."

As he finished speaking, he fell. Cameron and Cavanaugh rushed to catch him. The coroner held his head in her hands. "Stay with me, Woody. Please."

"Well?" House demanded.

"There was a puncture wound in his upper arm," Jordan said, weary with exhaustion. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "It looks like someone got him after he took off his suit jacket, which you said he was wearing when you saw him, so after he left me and went back to the morgue, and after you saw him. Or maybe before. Maybe he took off his jacket before you saw him, but when he started feeling cold, he put it back on, but then he got warm again… Your hospital has surveillance cameras in the hallways, right? We should get someone to look at them. The police—"

"Can't you do it?" House interrupted. "From what I've read, you're a crack forensic examiner."

"I don't have the equipment I'd need, and even then, I usually leave that up to Nigel," she said, taking out her phone. She needed Nigel's help, wished that the whole gang was down here or she was with them, that they could solve this… and save Woody.

"Nige, it's me. I need your help with a surveillance feed."

"Look, love, I want to help," Nigel began with a tone that frightened her. Something bad was going on in Boston, too. "I've got to tell you, though, they're pulling Woody completely off this case. Bug and I heard he's been suspended again."

Her worry turned to a burning rage. "Nigel, he didn't do anything."

"Love, I know this is Woody, but Simmons found evidence that he met with—"

"He never met Chambers, Nigel. He didn't hide anything. And if that's not proof enough, how about the fact that he's got a hospital bed of his own?"

The line was silent for a minute. "What?"

"He's unconscious, hooked up to dozens of machines, on drugs that he'd hate to know that he was on, and there's no cure for this. None of the other victims regained consciousness. Woody might not… Whatever Simmons found was planted, and Woody was set up. I need your help tracking down who did this to him. I think it happened here. Within a short period of time. I need you, Nigel. I need your expertise."

"Anything for you, love. Just get me the video."

"It's on its way," she told him. "Thank you, Nigel."

House watched her as she hung up. "I take it you got what you needed."

"Nigel's going to look into it," Jordan whispered, taking comfort from that fact. She breathed deeply again, trying to keep herself collected. "Are you sure there's nothing—"

"Cuddy gave me a class full of med students and Wilson's interns to do as many tests as I want I've got them testing everything I can think of. Foreman, Chase, and Cameron are all testing and retesting their theories. Your people are looking for the cause. But there are those that believe there is a spiritual part to healing. If they're right, he needs you there with him."

"He doesn't want me there," Jordan murmured. "It's like when he was shot all over again."

"You think he blames you for his shooting?"

She shook her head. She didn't bother asking House how he knew about Woody's shooting. She didn't really think that Woody would have told him, but it didn't matter. "It wasn't the shooting. It was what I said to him before they took him to surgery."

House blinked. "So he is as big an idiot as I thought he was."

"I didn't tell him I loved him until he almost died. He thought it was pity. Ordered me to get out of his life. I didn't believe him, but he insisted. I did what he asked. He and I… Let's just say our timing has always been off," Jordan finished. "He doesn't want me there."

"You're both idiots," House said. "He didn't believe you, so he told you to get out. If you'd insisted on staying, he'd have had his proof."

Jordan's eyes widened. "What?"

House held up his cane. "I was once where he was. I pushed away the woman I loved because I was angry. He pushed you away because he was angry and wanted proof. You're both prize idiots. He offered you an out that he figured you would take, and you took it, proving him right. I don't know the rest. Frankly, I don't care. But he obviously does, or he wouldn't have done whatever it was that got him stuck guarding a body."

Jordan stared at House. She made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Well, you're the last person I expected to say that."

House shrugged. "Got a bet with Wilson."

She laughed. That sounded like House. He'd say anything in his own interest. Still, if she was there for Woody this time… She didn't want to think about there not being a next time. There would be a next time, hopefully not like this, but she would be there for him again. She was not giving up on Woody.