Disclaimer: I do not own Crossing Jordan.

Note: Last time I didn't leave a link to Angel of the Morning, so here it is:

youtube(dot)com/watch?vbsU9iLZuA8.

The video is dedicated to some soap opera (Days of Our Lives, I think), but it's the only place I've found the song.

Casey (BugFan4Ever), Mexwojo, Miss Katie M, xOlly and Buzzy-B-, thanks for the reviews! You know I really like getting feedback, guys. stokesandmesserluver and distorted realities, I'm glad you liked it!

It was dawn when Bug opened his eyes. He immediately became aware of two things:

a. he didn't know where he was,

b. his right arm felt numb.

However, both of these mysteries were quickly resolved. Squinting in the dim light, he realized he was in his own bedroom. Then he looked to the right to find the reason of the lack of feeling in his arm. In a heartbeat, he thought it was a mirage. It indeed felt surreal. He had been wanting that for so long that he didn't know when he had started. And now he had it. There was Lily, asleep, his right arm wrapped around her, her head less than an inch from his, so he could clearly smell and enjoy the scent of her flowery shampoo. Over the moon, he smiled broadly. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling. Some ten minutes later, when Lily started fidgeting slightly and her warm blue eyes fluttered open, he still had the same ear-to-ear grin. Still sleepy, she smiled back. She leaned towards him and brushed her lips against his, murmuring, "Sleep, it's still early."

With that she rolled over, closing her eyes again. Vaguely remembering that she'd told him the other day that Madeleine would be spending the weekend with Jeffrey and his mother, Bug concurred. He snuggled against her, his front to her back, and fell back to dreamless sleep. He no longer needed dreams anyway.

A ray of sunshine on her face woke Jordan up. Relishing the warmth on her skin, she postponed opening her eyes for another minute. Then she gingerly lifted her eyelashes just a bit and cast a sideway glance to the left, expecting to see Woody's ruffled hair. When all she saw was the whiteness of his pillow, she opened her eyes completely, somewhat disappointed. For yesterday morning there'd been a few moments before the alarm clock went off which she truly enjoyed. He was half-smiling in his sleep, his hair went in all directions - he simply looked adorably boyish. All the traces last couple of years had left on him, all those little lines and all the toughness being gone, he looked a lot like the happy-go-lucky farm boy she'd met a long time ago. Not that she minded his change. He had grown up and so had she. They'd both changed for the better. But sometimes she just missed the old days, missed them terribly, unexplainably and, probably, irrationally.

She sat up in her bed, looking around the room. The bathroom door caught her attention – it was open and the room was dark. Where was he? She glanced around, looking for a message, but found none. Suddenly and inexplicably, she felt forlorn. Where and, most importantly why, would he go so early in the morning? And without even telling her.

"Oh, stop it! Why is he bound to tell you where he's going?" she told to herself, but her heart fell none the less. "Because we're friends," she defended herself from the little voice. "Exactly my point!" the voice was triumphant.

Jordan only shrugged, trying to shake the thought off, and closed her eyes in an attempt to get some more sleep. She wasn't in the mood for introspection. She wasn't often in that mood anyway and the fact that she had hardly slept a wink the previous night didn't actually help. She had tried to sleep, but spent the night mostly tossing and turning in some dream-like state. She vaguely remembered seeing Woody sitting on his bed and staring anxiously at her whenever she opened her eyes. She also recalled wanting to tell him she was ok and not being able to do so.

'How stupid of me to drink all that. I must have frightened him,' she thought. 'And we could have…' she actually blushed a little. She was by no means shy, but it bothered her that she couldn't remember everything from last night. She remembered bits and pieces – mainly the pleasant pressure of his lips traveling down her neck to her collar bone and her strangely nervous fingers unbuttoning his shirt. Her lips curled into a small smile as she closed her eyes again so that she could relive the memory. She sighed in frustration; it had been a promising evening.

'Would he leave this morning without saying a thing even if we'd slept together?' She was mad at herself for thinking about such things. She had never been a romantic soul seeing the world through her pink sunglasses. She had never had equaled sex with love. She'd had her fair share of one night stands and she'd never look back. But, somehow, the thought that last night (had it ended where she intended) could mean no more than a fling to Woody was more than upsetting. She remembered the song that was playing in her mind yesterday.

'And if we were victims of the night, I won't be blinded by the light. Dammit, when the hell did I stop being Ruby Tuesday and turned into Angel of the Morning?' She snorted.

She was grateful that the sound of the door opening interrupted her attempt at introspection. She was even more grateful when she saw what Woody was carrying.

"Good morning." He smiled. "I'd have been back earlier, but it seems they have a strange custom of serving breakfast only till nine-thirty on Sundays," he said as he was closing the door. "But… a sweetheart from the fifth grade was able to get us some raspberry cheesecake." He grinned while placing the tray on the bed, beside her.

"Oh, c'mon, don't forget that I actually saw your elementary school pictures the other day!" She laughed, moving to make some room for him.

"I have no idea what you're trying to imply, Jordan." He pretended to be hurt by her insinuations. "But if you're by any chance aiming at my chubbiness at the time, I must tell you it hurts."

"Oh, poor baby," she said in a mock-sympathetic tone, helping herself to a raspberry from the top of her piece of cake.

"Ok, ok, it was just a crush," he muttered.

"How are you, Jordan?" His eyes darkened a little. She knew that look too well. After all, over the years, he'd been worried about her only a zillion times. "You okay?" he repeated.

She smiled gently. "I'm just fine. Don't worry. It wasn't anything really serious," she said, and then quickly added, "but I guess it must have looked pretty scary. Hope I didn't frighten you."

"I-I was afraid," he admitted, "because I didn't know what to do. I hate being helpless like that. Had something gone wrong, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. I wouldn't have known what to do. I wouldn't be able to help you, to save you, Jordan," his voice was gruff. The words came out unexpectedly, even to him.

Jordan gulped. She knew he wasn't talking about last night, or at least not only about it. She had finally deciphered the 'double shift' comment in all certainty. Her brown eyes were filled with tenderness and sparkled with suppressed tears when she said softly, "Hey, I'm fine. And you did help me." She placed a soothing hand on his cheek.

His hand covered hers. His eyes met hers and he read her wish in those cognac-colored depths. He knew that she wanted him to hold her just as much as he did. He leaned a bit towards her. At the same moment, a whole pack of dogs, as it seemed, started barking furiously in the street, making Jordan jump. She laughed nervously. They both knew the moment had been ruined.

"Well, we'd better start getting ready for the wedding," she said.

He only nodded, trying to get his eyes off her. He'd seen his share of women in satin and lace, but Jordan in her baggy spaghetti-strapped white cotton nightie was the hottest thing he'd seen. "Except Jordan without even that on." a thought came and he felt the urge to slap himself.

Nigel was proud of himself. He didn't come on time – he came earlier. Much earlier as it turned out – because the flight from New York was late. Just as he was getting tired of the odd looks passersby were giving him because of his (in their opinion) odd appearance, Kate's plane landed. He was slightly anxious. Heck, he was anxious. What did she think about his calling her the previous evening and asking her whether she needed a ride from the airport? He was certain it hadn't exactly been the experience of his life.

The phone had been ringing for so long that he was on the verge of giving up. Then she picked up. He could barely hear her as the noise was terrible.

"Hi, Kate, it's Nigel." He was wondering why the hell he had called her. 'And she is probably doing the same,' he thought.

"Oh, hi," She was surprised.

Usually, he'd explain elaborately why he was calling and before that he'd be asking all sorts of questions – where his listener was and why, how he or she was doing etc. However, this time he found the noise quite a convenient excuse.

"Listen, Kate, I can hardly hear you," he started, "I'm calling 'cause I've been wondering whether you'll need a ride tomorrow."

There was a short pause as Kate was digesting what had been said. She couldn't pretend she wasn't aware of the reason he'd called. She couldn't pretend she wasn't in the least bit glad, either.

"Sure," she said and then gave him the details of her flight.

"Okay, great then." Nigel was relieved. "I'll see ya tomorrow!"

Well, if it hadn't been the best, it hadn't exactly been the worst experience of his life, either. She hadn't smirked, she hadn't made a single snide remark. As a matter of fact, she had been nice. That had to be a good sign.

'All right, she sounded surprised, but not in a bad way,' he was encouraging himself.

And now there they were – at Logan, Nigel carrying Kate's suitcase and she her beloved Binky's transporter. All they'd said to each other was a 'hi.' Nige tried to break the ice:

"So, how's New York?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Far more interesting than Boston," Kate replied.

They didn't spoke again until they reached the car. This time it was a nice green ford.

"This one is smaller, so-" the Brit started explaining, but stopped in the middle of the sentence, intrigued by Binky's whining. "Oh, it seems that the li'l fella wants out!"

After all her 'hushes' failed miserably, the annoyed Dr. Switzer – once they were in the car – set her precious little terrier free. The furball jumped right at Nigel, sniffing him frantically.

"Oh, it seems I'm really growing on him." Nige grinned, petting Binky's head.

Kate didn't say anything; she only raised an eyebrow in suspicion. The next moment, her pet jumped in her lap, holding a juicy piece of bacon that he retrieved from Dr. Townsend's pocket. Silently, Nigel pulled off, focusing hard on the road in front of him. For a couple of moments, nothing but Dandie Dinmont terrier's munching could be heard. Then Kate broke the silence. "Bacon can't buy you love," she pointed out. "But maybe some nice kidneys can."

Jordan felt light-hearted. If her mind wasn't exactly blank, she wasn't thinking of anything in particular, either. Her thoughts were wandering in all directions, never ceasing at one point. Life was good. The sun was shining, the air was reasonably warm, the wine was excellent, the band exquisite. In a word, everything at Lizzie and Cal's wedding reception was perfect and everybody seemed to be happy. She was contented, to say the least. Her chin was resting on Woody's shoulder, her eyes were closed most of the time as she felt comfortable and peaceful in his arms while they danced to one oldie after another.

"I could swear you dozed off two or three songs ago," he whispered when Jordan shifted a bit.

"Mhmmm" being the only answer he got, he smiled.

He loved his talkative, sarcastic, feisty, buttons pushing, hard to handle Jordan, but dealing with this more gentle, less cautious, not ready-and-willing-to-run-any-moment Jordan, who was tranquil in his arms, giving no signs of pulling away in near future, was nice for a change. He pulled her a little closer though one would think it was an impossible thing to do as there didn't seem to be any space left between the two of them.

Over her shoulder, he glanced at other couples on the dance floor. Spotting Annie, who was beautiful in her blue dress, and Ray, he smiled. Sheriff Cody's refusal of his marriage proposal to his daughter seemed to be the best thing that had ever happened to Woody. Had he stayed in Kewaunee and married Annie, he'd probably never have gotten hit in the face with a trashcan, given away his ticket to "The Kinks" concert he had been waiting for ages, discovered decomposed bodies in a long abandoned house, shot a man off the rooftop, gone on a cross-country wild goose chase, given all his money to bail the woman he loved from the LA jail, gritted his teeth innumerous times at the very same woman disobeying his "stay in the car." He wouldn't know how unhappy he was. What he had felt for Annie was love. He had cared for her deeply. But compared to the myriad feelings only a few minutes with Jordan could evoke in him, to that bittersweet emotion when he'd recall every single moment they'd spent together, to not knowing whether to kiss her or kill her each time she'd waltz safe and sound from another of her hare-brained schemes, what he had once felt for Annie Cody was nothing.

During those six years since he first met Jordan in that bank lobby, he grew to believe that indeed there was one perfect person for everybody. And his was Jordan. Although their relationship had never been even close to perfection, although in the darkest hours of their bizarre dance he had been infatuated with other women, a part of him was always perfectly aware that he would never be able to escape the spell that the cynical, angry, difficult and pushy (description courtesy of Det. Elliot Chandler), but at the same time caring, vulnerable, righteous and always willing to save the underdog, dark-haired ME had unintentionally put on him. And he didn't really want to escape it since only a couple of moments like these on the dance floor were easily able to erase the days of frustration with her previous actions. For no matter how miserable Jordan could make him feel from time to time, she was the only one who could make him feel over the moon with just one word, one smile or touch.

Jordan didn't mind being pulled even closer. In fact, she liked it. She felt cozy, comfortable, with Woody. After all, she'd known him for years. He was her best friend (as Garret was her bestest girlfriend). But her heart still fluttered when he was around. And it fluttered a lot. He was still infuriating from time to time, driving her out of her mind with his overprotectiveness, Wisconsinisms and corny jokes. At the same time, he was always there for her, he could make her laugh and he wore that dangerously hot cologne. Not to mention the fact that when he held her like he did now, it just felt right.

She closed her eyes again, reveling the sun on her face, the slow and sexy jazz tune the band was playing, the well-known scent of Woody's cologne and the light kiss he placed on her hair. A loud, rough, slightly drunken voice startled her.

"You're gonna smother that poor girl, Woodrow." An obese elderly man was leering at her. "Can I have this dance, little lady?" he held out his hand.

Jordan remained silent, struggling not to express her contempt and thus make an incident.

"I don't think it's a good idea right now, uncle Herb," Woody said. "My fiancée," he accentuated the words, "was just saying she couldn't bear this heat any longer. She needs some rest."

The man just waved his hand.

"Doesn't she have a tongue?" He practically pulled Jordan toward him. "Don't worry, kiddo, just one small dance," he addressed the outraged Woody who would have already punched him if it hadn't been for Jordan's grin – reassuring and wicked at the same time.

Some twenty seconds later he had the pleasure of watching Herb's sweaty hand leaving Jordan's waist and his eyes involuntarily filling with tears.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, uncle Herb!" Jordan covered her mouth to conceal her grin. It seemed that, inexplicably, in the passion of the dance the old man's foot got stubbed with her high heel.

Woody was about to congratulate her on her precision when Ray and his wife appeared next to them.

"We were wondering if you two'd wanna trade partners." Annie smiled.

Although the real answer was "no," they agreed. As Woody danced with his former fiancée, they were chit-chatting about the old times. When the song was over, he was relieved that a guy asked Annie for the next dance. He looked round for Jordan, but by that time she had disappeared in the crowd. He caught a glimpse of her dancing with some good-looking guy.

Lily stood in the doorway, smiling at Bug and Maddie. He was so sweet cooing at her, trying to make her smile.

"He is the best father Madeleine could ask for," she thought. She sighed remembering Jeffrey who seemed not to be able to spend even a weekend with his daughter. This time, apparently his mother had the flu and he was afraid Maddie could get it. "As if he couldn't have brought her to his new flat." She was surprised to learn she actually was a bit disappointed when he appeared carrying the baby girl. She had made some evening plans for Bug and herself.

But now, watching the two of them, she was truly glad their daughter was home. She joined them.

"I'm glad Jeffrey brought Maddie home." Bug voiced her thoughts.

"Me too." She nodded, and hugged him.

They both knew that 'home' didn't mean the apartment. It meant the place where she belonged. And she belonged with them. For the three of them were a family.

Cal found him sitting at the table with a bottle of hennessy in front of him.

"Damn waiters," he commented. "We've told them not to give bottles to guests under any circumstances. And they had to give you the most expensive cognac."

"Don't worry," his brother retorted. "I won't drink all of it."

"You just like the color, huh?" Cal nodded knowingly.

Woody was silent.

"Since I don't sleep in a bunk bed any more," Cal started after some time, "let me give you a piece of love advice this time."

"I'm all ears, genius." His brother made the last word sound like 'knucklehead.'

Cal continued nevertheless. "Just tell her," he said. When Woody snorted, he resumed, "Look, I don't know everything that happened between you two, but I'm not blind. Although even a blind man would be able to see it with the two of you. She loves you. You love her. You're both confused and insecure. You're acting like schoolkids. And I think it's high time you were a man and told her how you feel."

"Geez, thank you, Dr. Love." Woody was sarcastic although he had to admit his brother might have a point.

"Be sarcastic if you want. It's easier that way, but I think that Jordan-" started Calvin.

"You think that Jordan what?" inquired Jordan. They didn't see her coming.

"Looks wonderful today." Cal grinned, standing up.

Not only Woody, but everybody at the reception would definitely agree with him. She was wearing a spaghetti-strapped empire dress that reached just above her knees. Its sangria color suited her perfectly. A triple-row pearl necklace was sparkling around her neck. Her hair was put in a neat and sweet sock bun.

"Thanks, Cal. I'll pretend I believe that that's what you were saying." She smiled.

He only smiled back before he walked away.

"I've been looking for you," she said sitting next to Woody.

"Yeah," was all he said.

She frowned. "Woody, I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not like you-" He was cut off.

"No, no," she quickly started, "I'm not talking about dancing with other guys." She rolled her eyes. "I've been thinking and… I-I'm sorry for dragging you into all my crazy schemes and complicating your life-" Now she was cut off.

"Where did that come from?" He was genuinely surprised.

"Well, um, I was watching all these people and…" Suddenly she felt very stupid, not knowing how to continue. "They all seem to lead normal, not messed up lives… and I think you, well, you could… I mean, if it hadn't been for my obsessions and all that jazz," she forced herself to finish even if it was pretty inarticulate. 'Why don't you just go and kill yourself, Jordan. You sounded like a conceited lunatic,' she thought to herself.

"Oh, just get over yourself, Jordan!" His tone was joking, but his eyes darkened. Not that she was able to see that – her eyes were downcast. "Now, seriously, Jordan, get over yourself. Nothing is your fault. I mean, yes, you are complicated and everything, but… I've always had a choice." These last words came out as a little more than a whisper.

She looked at him. They both knew what was implied. He had chosen her, her hare-brained plans, wild goose chases and the ever-present possibility of her running away over a house in the burbs, white picket fence and a nice ever-present wife.

They met halfway. The kiss was maybe not that passionate as the ones from the previous evening, but it was… how to describe the indescribable? If you had asked them about that kiss, they'd both have used a single word: perfect.

What followed wasn't, though. His cell phone started ringing, making them both sigh. Over the years, too many moments were ruined by one or another of their cell phones. After many 'yes, sir's, Woody turned to her. She recognized his professional look.

"I have to go back to Boston. Now," he said. "It seems that the Slaughterer is back."

"I still don't understand why I can't come with you." Jordan was annoyed.

"Because: a) it's not your case, so they don't need you in Boston; b) you didn't sleep last night and you don't need an hour and a half drive to Oshkosh and a four-hour flight tonight, especially when you're working tomorrow afternoon," he said, zipping his suitcase.

Ready to go, he turned to her. "Jordan, I didn't arrange this call to avoid you. Okay, maybe I did arrange this call to avoid you," he echoed her speech from LA. She flashed a lopsided smile. He kissed her on the forehead.

'We're obviously at 'let's take it slow' again,' she thought, not exactly cheerful.

"I'll see you at home," he said. Although he was leaving the town where he grew up, he had known for a long time that his home was Boston. Where his family, his morgue family, was. Most importantly, where Jordan was.

"Take care," she whispered.

He closed the door behind him, but then he just stood there in the corridor, indecisive. He wanted to go back in, not knowing what he would say or do. He only knew he needed to be with her just a little longer, to hold her, to give her a proper goodbye kiss. But in the end he shook his head.

'Not now,' he thought. 'But I'll tell her soon. I'll tell her. One of these days.'

Her hand was already on the door knob when her reason prevailed. She rested her forehead against the door, sighing. She managed to resist the urge to go after him and tell him: "Let's not take it slow." or something like that. Maybe even the words. In the end, she'd listened to her reason. It wouldn't make sense. Not now.

'But I'll tell him,' she vowed silently. 'I'll tell him. One of these days.'

A final note: Ok, this story is now officially finished! I must admit it's a far cry from my outline (which I messed up as early as chapter 1 :)). I kinda rushed the part with the murder because I found it hard to write about the events at the precinct and because I don't know much about all those gadgets Nigel uses. All medical facts in the story should be correct, though. :))

One more thing: since this unexpectedly had much more romance than crime, I've changed the genre into general/romance. I planned to write more about Lily and Bug, but I somehow found myself writing about Jordan and Woody 90 percent of the time. Sorry!

Anyway, I promise a better mystery next time (if there's one). Thanks for reading and, of course, feel free to leave a review!